


Interludes

by thievinghippo



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 32,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2191107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Life is a mosaic of pleasure and pain - grief is an interval between two moments of joy. Peace is the interlude between two wars." --  Sri Sathya Sai Baba. A collection of swtor one-shots across all eight classes, in no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aric Jorgan Romance - Tatooine

**Author's Note:**

> Here you'll find one-shots for all eight classes and their romances. There will be spoilers for all eight classes. These stories are in no particular order, but before each one, I'll post the pairing and when about the one-shot takes place.

**Class:** Republic Trooper

 **When:**  Chapter I, Tatooine

* * *

 

“I think that’s everyone, sir,” Jorgan said, peering out into the dust storm. “What do you think? Wait it out at the ship?”

Wynneth followed his gaze. She could still see the outlines of the buildings outside, but according to Galen, soon Anchorhead would disappear in a cloud of dust. Her shoulder throbbed a bit. One of these days she’d have to bite the bullet and have Dorne take a look. Stretching her arms behind her back, she said, “Be more trouble than it’s worth. We’ve been running around all day. Might be nice to sit down for a bit.”

“Works for me,” Jorgan said. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Gonna run to the head.”

She nodded and began the process of sitting down in heavy armor, always harder than it looked, even with a lighter variety that she preferred. Once she gently placed her assault rifle down on the ground next to her, Wynneth brought her knees up to her chest. Her eyelids felt like they had weights on them, but she would never consider closing her eyes in a place like Anchorhead. Not until Jorgan got back at least. Then perhaps she could take a quick nap.

Outside, the dust storm started to rage, leaving Wynneth glad that they decided not to venture to the next outpost. Who’d want to be out in that weather? She let out a snort of a laugh, thinking that the storm reflected her mood. Since when did she consider herself a warrior-poet?

Her thoughts almost immediately turned melancholy. Jorgan would disagree, she knew, but Wynneth had a hard time trying convince herself that their mission so far had been anything than a failure. Two members of the original Havoc squad dead. And she had a hard time believing that the rest would have a dissimilar fate.

Where did she go wrong? She had so many hopes pinned to this mission and now it felt harder than catching water in her palms.

“That’s a dangerous look, rookie,” Jorgan said.

Wynneth looked up and saw Jorgan holding two cups of coffee. “Oh stars, you’re my hero,” she said, reaching up for the coffee cup before Jorgan even had a chance to offer it to her.

He gave her a grin. “Who said one’s for you?” Jorgan said, placing a cup in her hands. Even through her armored gloves she could feel the warmth of the cup. “Maybe I’m just really thirsty.”

“No teasing your CO,” Wynneth said, taking a sip. Perfect. Jorgan somehow managed to put in just the right amount of cream. “You are a lifesaver.”

“All part of the job.”

Wynneth sipped at her coffee while Jorgan maneuvered to sit down on the floor next to her, balancing his coffee without spilling a drop. “Could have held that for you,” she said.

“I trust you with my life,” Jorgan said seriously. He took a sip and closed his eyes. “Not with my coffee.”

“That stings, Jorgan,” Wynneth said, pleased to not think about the death and destruction they would leave behind on Tatooine. She didn’t sign up for the army to cause death, she wanted to prevent it.

“There’s that look again,” Jorgan said, his voice softer than Wynneth ever remembered hearing before.

Her gauntlets kept her from feeling the warmth of the cup in her hands. Not that she needed extra warmth on Tatooine. She knew already she looked a mess, her hair matted and droplets of sweat trickling down her temple. “You must have thought I was an idiot.”

Jorgan froze next to her, his coffee cup half way to his mouth. “Sir?”

“We’re off duty, Jorgan. Cut the ‘sir’ crap.”

After taking a sip, Jorgan leaned back his head so it rested against the cool tile. “Care to explain?”

“When I promised Kardan that I’d bring them back alive…” Wynneth trailed off, thinking of the tense meeting on Coruscant. “You must of thought I was so stupid.” This time she did close her eyes, picturing the Needles and Fuse, dead, because she hadn’t been smart enough, fast enough, strong enough.

Jorgan let out a low whistle. “You really want to know what I think?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Wynneth said. She turned her head to meet his gaze, wondering why his opinion was so damn important to her.

He looked right back at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, no pity, only understanding. “I thought it was naive to promise that,” Jorgan said after a moment. “I get why you did. You truly believed that you could, rookie, and that’s commendable. And up until we put a bullet in Needles’ brain, you had me believing, too. But those kind of traitors…”

“Would never let themselves be captured alive,” Wynneth finished. “So we kill them instead.” Her toes curled, as if to ground her closer to the earth. “Sometimes I’m just really sick of death, Jorgan.”

“Soldiers like you and me? We don’t have the luxury of getting tired,” Jorgan said, shaking his head. “We’re the ones that take care of the dirty work so a fresh face recruit can believe they can make a difference.”

“You just described me ten years ago,” Wynneth said with a sigh, thinking how optimistic she was when she enlisted, thinking she would help rid the galaxy of the Empire and make things better for everyone. And then came the Outer Rim and she never looked at the galaxy with quite the same innocence.

“Ignore me,” Jorgan said. “I’m Cathar, we tend towards the naturally pessimistic.”

Wynneth bit her lip, thinking of her younger self. She wondered what her eighteen year old self would think of her now, the commander of Havoc squad with access to almost all the secrets the Republic had to offer. Eighteen year old Wynneth would be horrified of all the skeletons in the closet. Now, she simply hoped the closet was big and secure enough to hold them all. Somehow she doubted it. But that was for another day.

She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. Yes, she was older and wiser, than the eager ensign she had been, but that didn’t mean she had to lose her optimism completely. They had another lead, on Alderaan. Maybe, just maybe they could bring someone, anyone, in alive. Wynneth knew Jorgan wanted them all dead, but she had made a promise. She owed it to her eighteen year old self to try to fulfill it, no matter what.

With a sigh, Wynneth brought out her datapad. Might as well catch up on some datawork while they were stuck here. Jorgan followed her lead and together, they waited for the dust to settle. 


	2. Malavai Quinn Romance - Taris

**Class:** Sith Warrior

 **When:** Chapter II, Taris

~~~~~

Maevry had to concentrate to keep her hands from shaking. She had been close to death before, but never like this. Never at the mercy of a computer.

General Minsk didn’t stir from his stupor. “Is other one secure?” Maevry asked, looking down at Quinn, who handcuffed the man for transport.

“Yes, my lord,” Quinn said, standing then straightening his uniform jacket.

Maevry didn’t think she imagined the slight tremor in his voice. His usual unflappable demeanor seemed off kilter somewhat and Maevry understood he had been just as affected as she was. He must be. How else would he have ever said what he said?

_I believe you know how I feel about you, my lord._

And that was the crux of the problem. She _did_ know. She knew he cared about her a great deal. Every look, every word told her how much he cared about her. Yet he continued to deny his passion, holding everything back.

“I hear the evacuation squad,” Quinn said, looking at the door entrance.

“Good,” Maevry said, placing her hand on her lightsaber. She needed to feel its heft in her hands, to feel in control of something once again. “I want to see if there’s been any news on the search for General Durant.”

The squad came marching in and took over quickly, Quinn explaining what was to be done with Minsk to the squad leader. Together, she and Quinn left the room, him by her side instead of a few steps behind as was his custom.

The moment they turned the corner and were out of sight, Maevry let out a gasp of surprise as Quinn pushed her up against the wall, his hands at her waist.

 _Finally,_ Maevry thought desperately, her entire body ready to cry out in triumph. Her fingers gripped the front of his uniform jacket, trying to bring him as close as possible. Stars, how she could drink him up right now.

Their eyes met, and Maevry sense an electricity between them. His gloved hand caressed her cheek and Maevry leaned into his touch. “My lord,” he said.

His voice was low and thrilled Maevry to no end. She had never once heard those words from his lips sound more appealing. It took every effort not to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him madly. But for this, their first kiss, he must make the move. She had to be absolutely certain that this was something that he wanted as much as she did.

Before he could bring his lips to hers, Maevry’s holocom beeped, using the emergency channel. Quinn stepped back at once, leaving Maevry bereft of his warmth and she cursed whoever it was on the other end.

Pierce. Of course.

She listened to the lieutenant carefully, sensing him through the Force. Pierce was a rare breed of soldier, completely committed to the cause. As she reached out, she also took a moment to evaluate Quinn.

That brief, shining flare of passion she felt from him had completely disappeared, leaving only the cool, calm presence she had grown used to by her side. She could feel him turning in on himself and away from her. To come so close, only to have it ripped away… Maevry wanted to stamp her foot in the frustration of it all.

The call ended and as Maevry put away her holocom, Quinn said, his voice brisk, “We best make haste to Lieutenant Pierce, my lord.”

Maevry nodded. She was not about to let good soldiers die while she dealt with her love life. They could talk on the way. Spinning on her heel, she started to walk out of the chemical plant, hearing the surefooted step of Quinn right behind her.

She didn’t speak until they were outside. Maevry took a deep breath, trying to think of what a beautiful world Taris must have been at some point. The sky above her filled with stars and even the humidity couldn’t keep her from enjoying the night air.

“It’s not far,” Quinn said. “We can pick up two speeders at the next outpost for the remainder of the journey.”

“If you say,” Maevry said, starting to walk. She set a quick pace, not wanting to waste time. Almost a minute of silence passed before the words burst out. “Did you mean what you said?”

His shoulders tensed and she saw his hands curl into fists. He did not break stride, however. She would never expect him to. “Even if I did, I should not have said it.”

Again the urge to put her hands on hips and stamp her foot overwhelmed her. She would not appear childish in front of Quinn. Not when she knew the difference in their ages already concerned him. “Why?” she asked through gritted teeth. “If that’s how you truly feel…”

“We are in the middle of a mission, my lord,” he said, looking resolutely ahead. “Surely now is not the most opportune time to discuss the matter.”

She took a deep breath and let go of the tension riding in her shoulders. Quinn looked like he was spoiling for a fight. Perhaps that’s what he wanted, an excuse to change his mind and shut himself away from her forever. Well, she was not about to give him one. Sounding perfectly calm, Maevry said, “You’re right, of course, Captain.”

His eyes widened a bit in shock and Maevry felt her lips twist into a smirk. _Not what you expected, Captain, was it?_

A comfortable silence fell between them as they entered the outpost. As Maevry sat down and started her speeder, she said, “Just as long as you realize, Captain, at that some point, we will be discussing the matter.”

Maevry gave herself only a moment to appreciate the way his cheek’s reddened and his sharp intake of breath before riding off.

They did have a mission to complete, after all.  


	3. Andronikos Revel Romace - Taris

**Class:** Sith Inquisitor

 **When:** Chapter II, Taris

~~~~~

Revel had frequented many a cantina in his day. He’d been in classy ones, where all the unseemliness stayed neatly out of sight for the rich patrons. And he had been in bad ones, the type where spice flowed freely and offered to anyone.

His favorites, though, were the dives. Small hole in the walls, where a person could drink in peace and get some business done. Some of his best deals came from those types of places. But this cantina, with Imperial soldiers and Sith crawling all over the place, was like no cantina he had ever been in before.

Made his skin crawl, especially not having Denravi at his back. Revel threw back a shot of whiskey, wanting to laugh at the irony that he trusted a Sith more than anyone in the galaxy right now to have his six.

They had been supposed to meet at the cantina close to a half hour ago, but Denravi was nowhere to be seen. Probably got stopped by some Imperial, wanting a favor. Knowing her, Denravi would have some new task for them tomorrow on this hellhole of a world. After only one day, he absolutely hated Taris.

But he had to admit, he sort of respected that Denravi kept trying to help people. It had been years since Revel had given a thought to anyone other to himself and his crew. Not since his Republic days.

Speaking of, he’d probably have to tell her about those Republic days at some point. Not that it was her business or anything. But since they would hopefully continue this habit of sleeping together, it wouldn’t hurt to give her a few details about his past.

Fingers slid across his shoulders and Revel smiled to himself. He turned, expecting to see Denravi, but instead found himself face to face with that damn Sith apprentice, Thana.

“Well, well, well,” Thana said, her voice low. “I’m surprised your master let you out of her sight for even a moment.”

Revel clenched his fists, knowing he had to tread carefully. Damn, he hated dealing with Sith. His Sith was one of the only sane one he knew, and even she was chasing ghosts.

Wait. _His_ Sith?

“She’s not my master,” Revel said slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. The cantina was full of Sith. One wrong move and he’d be mowed down in a less than a heartbeat. _Where the hell was Denravi?_ “I’m not a slave.”

Thana laughed, clearly not believing him. “I have something to discuss with you, slave or no slave,” Thana said. “Follow me.”

Denravi would owe him for this. The two of them should be having a drink, and then heading back to that quiet, private bunk she had been given simply for being Sith, where they could have a quick fuck before getting some sleep. “Yes, my lord,” Revel said, refusing to let the venom he felt towards Thana be heard in his voice. He needed to live through this encounter for no other reason than to yell at Denravi.

Thana led him to a corner of the cantina. He made sure his back was to the wall, so he could see the entire cantina, including the entrance. The moment Denravi stepped inside, he wanted to know. “I have… a proposition,” Thana said.

Itching to feel his blasters in his hands, Revel instead crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” he asked, trying to think of what this woman could possibly want with him.

“How much would it cost for you to kill her?” Thana asked casually.

“I’m not an assassin,” Revel said at once, which wasn’t exactly true. In his seven years of captaining the Sky Princess, he had killed a couple of people for money. But no amount of credits would get him to kill Denravi. First, Khem Val or Zash or whoever it was now would kill him almost instantly. Second, he had a fairly good gig set up with Denravi. She paid him what he considered to be a generous stipend. He didn’t have to worry about room and board, and she paid for almost all of his armor and weapons. And third… well, frankly, he liked her. They worked well together, especially in bed.

Why would he want to give all of that up just for credits?

“Everyone has a price,” Thana said, narrowing her eyes. “I want yours.”

Revel glanced at the entrance of the Cantina, to see Denravi walking into the cantina. Their eyes met and his shoulders slumped just slightly in relief, enough that Thana noticed.

She whipped her head around and Revel saw the bartender droid handing Denravi a drink. When Denravi glanced back at them, Thana grabbed Revel by the shoulders and forced a kiss on him.

Revel didn’t flinch, he didn’t move a single muscle and most certainly did not kiss her back as he waited for Thana to step away. When she finally did, Thana gave Denravi a smirk and then stalked out of the cantina.

Shaking his head, Revel walked back over to Denravi, who sat at the bar, two shot glasses in front of her. He stood next to her, leaning against the bar, invading her personal space a bit. She stared into the shot glass, like it held the answers to the universe.

The realization of how things must have looked like when she entered the Cantina slowly dawned on him. “I didn’t fuck her,” Revel said, keeping hisoice quiet. A lot of women he knew would have stamped their feet and wrung their hands, seeing the guy they’re sleeping with being kissed by another. If Denravi turned out to be one of those… Well, maybe he’d take off after they were done here on Taris.

Still not looking at him, Denravi pushed one of the shot glasses towards him. Alderaanian whiskey. His favorite. She met his gaze then. “I know.”

“How do you know?” Revel challenged.

Denravi picked up her shot, some sort of light blue concoction and threw it back. Then turning to look at him, said, “Because you just told me,” she said, her voice soft. She shrugged her shoulder. “Even if you had, it’s not my business unless you want it to be.”  She gave him a wry smile. “You don’t ever have to lie to me, pirate.”

The tightening Revel began to feel in his chest relaxed a bit. She wasn’t going to hound him like Casey or Anira, wondering where he spent his evenings or complain how much he spent on gadgets for his blasters. He wouldn’t have to come up with half-truths or white lies to get through rocky patches. And if he looked at another woman or spent too much time by himself, it sounded like he wouldn’t have to defend himself.

He could just be himself.

Funny how a little thing like that could make him feel like he was piloting a ship.

Like he was completely free.


	4. Felix Iresso Romance - The Defender I

**Class:** Jedi Consular

 **When:** Chapter III, before the Javelin

* * *

 

Felix leans against the doorway from the ship’s bridge, waiting for the hallway to clear out. Zenith is speaking to one of the Voss commandos, discussing tactics. Once again Felix curses the designer of this ship, having the captain’s cabin entrance right off of the main hallway. Any other boat, he could slip into his girlfriend’s room without anyone being the wiser.

Sure, V’ryss told him to come and go as he pleases, saying she knows the Jedi Council will catch wind of their relationship sooner or later. Secrecy isn’t the worth the effort, in her opinion. But as he watches Tharan walk from the conference room to the stairs leading to the lower levels, he wonders why invite trouble?

Finally Zenith and the commando leave the hallway and Felix grabs his chance and briskly walks to V’ryss’s door. It opens at once, recognizing his biometrics and he enters, only to see V’ryss sitting at the edge of the bed, sobbing.

His heart constricts. Felix has seen her hurt, seen her upset, but he has never, _ever_ seen her cry before. Part of him thought Jedi couldn’t cry, though he knows that’s foolish. Jedi feel every emotion under the sun, just don’t let themselves be ruled by it.

“V’ryss?” he asks, his voice soft. He feels a moment of doubt, one he hopes disappears one of these days, and wonders if she’s changed her mind, about him, about them. He forces the errant thought away. She loves him. Felix knows this. He refuses to doubt.

She sits up straight, a hand wiping away her tears. “Felix,” she says, holding out her hand to him.

The sight of her blue skin next to his dark brown never ceases to amaze him. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. It’s the hand she holds her Light Saber and he can feel the calluses on her fingertips. Gently, he brings her fingertips to his lips and gives them a kiss. The move works and she smiles, clutching the bundle of furs she holds in her lap.

During dark times, which happen more often than he cares to admit, Felix thinks of himself as tainted, thanks to the holocron of Sith knowledge in his head. But all V’ryss has to do is smile at him, that smile he’s never seen directed anywhere but to him, and he knows he’s not. She is the brightest thing in his life and he knows she will fight through star stuff to keep him safe. And he’ll do the same for her.

He sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, glad he’s wearing a BDU instead of his heavy armor. She relaxes against him at once and Felix holds her a little tighter, soaking her slightly elevated skin temperature. Kissing her temple, he whispers, “What’s wrong?”

V’ryss lifts the fur she’s holding. “This is,” she says, her voice empty.

Felix reaches out and strokes the fur. It’s not from an animal he recognizes, but in a galaxy as large as theirs, that’s to be expected. “What is it?” he asks.

Resting her head on his shoulder, V’ryss says, “A Wookie pelt.”

All Felix can do is blink. V’ryss hates hunting. It’s the one major disagreement between them. There’s nothing more relaxing to Felix than being in the wild looking for trophies. To V’ryss, hunting for sport is wasteful and makes a mockery of the Force. And yet she travels with a Trandoshan who considers V’ryss a Herald for his religion. Felix called her out on her hypocrisy once. They finally agreed to disagree before words were spoke that couldn’t be taken back.

“Why do you have a Wookie pelt?” he asks. For a moment, he wonders if she meant to give it to him; she’s given him gifts he’d considered trophies before, like that ID for that crime lord on Nar Shaddaa or the Krayt Dragon Pearl. But never something like a pelt.

“Qyzen gave it to me.”

“Wait…” Felix trailed off and looked at V’ryss. He and Qyzen get along well and talk shop a lot during the long stretches of travel. From these conversations, Felix knows that giving someone a Wookie pelt like this is a romantic gesture for a Trandoshan, something you would only do for a mate.

Waving her hand, V’ryss says, “It’s not what you think.” She almost cracks a smile at that. “He gave it to me so I could give it to you.”

“And the thought makes you cry?” Felix says, letting his voice deadpan a bit.

She punches him lightly on the shoulder. “Now you’re just being silly.” Leaning forward, she presses her lips against his. Felix closes his eyes and kisses her back. For a moment, he doesn’t think of anything except her. When V’ryss pulls away, she hugs the pelt to her chest. “I just keep thinking… This was a sentient creature at some point. They had hopes and dreams, maybe a family. What if they left a mate behind or children…” V’ryss flops back onto the bed and sighs. Times like this he remembers how young she really is. “And now this beautiful pelt represents a trophy instead of someone’s _life._ _”_

Felix lays beside her, on his side, running his hands through her hair. He can’t keep the pelt, he know this. The last thing he wants to accept a gift that causes her so much pain. “There’s an organization I know of,” he says quietly. “For hunters. They take part of kills that a hunter can’t use, like bone or fur or even extra meat, and gives them away to people in need.”

Her red eyes light up slightly and he can tell her interest is piqued. Amazing how when he first was assigned to Hoth how he thought the only word he would ever use to describe Chiss eyes was ‘creepy.’ Now he can’t think of another set of eyes as beautiful as hers. “This organization could use the pelt?”

He nods, enjoying the feeling of her hair between his fingers. She hardly ever wears it down, but she does, he needs to take advantage. “There’s a lot they could do with a pelt this size. A blanket, lining for coats, hats, that sort of thing.”

“Could we donate it?” she asks, grabbing his hand. “Please?” Her mouth opens to say something else but she stops. “Wait. This is a gift. A gift for you. If you want to keep-”

“We’ll donate it,” Felix says, in a voice he knows books no disagreement. Thought he must admit, part of him thrilled over saying the word ‘we.’ Even with everything the galaxy is throwing at them, they are together, and they are fighting for each other. She and he truly have become ‘we.’

He’s rewarded with a smile and a quick kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I know Qyzen meant well and I try so hard to be tolerate, but sometimes…”

“He’ll never have to know,” Felix says, taking the pelt from her arms. Standing up, Felix folds the pelt respectfully and places it in the dresser drawer that has become his. “Now.” Felix turns to face V’ryss and he sees the hungry look in her eyes, a look he’s sure reflected in his own. “Perhaps we have some time so I can show you my gratitude for receiving such a gift?”

V’ryss’s smile lights up her whole face and she reaches for him, even as she’s lying on her back. Felix joins her on the bed and then the only gifts they think about for a time are the ones they can experience right here and right now.


	5. Andronikos Revel Romance - Act II Finale

**Class:** Sith Inquisitor

 **When:**  Chapter II Finale

* * *

 

And then he watched her die.

Denravi collapsed to the floor like a puppet cut loose from its strings. “Sith!” Revel called out, running over to her. He didn’t think of his own safety, of the ghosts and visions and apparitions crawling around the place.

“Don’t you dare be dead, Sith,” Revel whispered, lifting her head off of the ground. Her body started convulsing slightly and he turned her to her side. While convulsions weren’t good, they meant she wasn’t dead. He’d take anything he could get. “I am not piloting your ship without you.”

Think. He had to think. They were in Darth Thanaton’s private chambers in the Citadel. The rest of her companions were back enjoying the hospitality of Dromund Kaas. Picking her up and taking her to a medical droid was not an option. The last thing she’d want is for anyone to know. Sith already looked down on her for being a former slave. They find out she has ghosts in her head? They’d be out for blood.

Drellik was the only option. Revel’s hands felt clumsy at a time when he needed them to be steady, more than ever, as he grabbed his holocom. The reclamation officer was flighty, but Revel knew deep down, he was an officer. He’d rise to the occasion. Revel had seen it more than once happen in his Republic days.

Within seconds, Drellik appeared on the com.  _Revel? I didn_ _’t expect-_

“Grab Ashara and Khem and get over here now,” Revel spat out. “Denravi’s in trouble.

Drellik looked down and his eyes widened, seeing her unconscious on the floor.  _We_ _’ll leave at once._

The com cut off, leaving Revel alone with Denravi. The convulsions had stopped, and she still breathed. “Come on, Sith,” he said, caressing her cheek. “Wake up.”

Revel looked around. They were in the middle of a large room, perfect for someone to sneak up on them. As carefully as he could, Revel picked Denravi up, cradling her in his arms. With his foot, he kicked her lightsaber to the side of the room. She’d kill him if she knew how he treated her weapon, but she’d have to wake up first, wouldn’t she?

Putting his back against the wall, so he could see the whole room, Revel slid down into a sitting position, Denravi still in his arms. He tucked her head under his chin and reached for his blaster. His blood cooled a bit, knowing he would be able to kill anyone who walked into the room.

Might take Drellik a good twenty minutes to get here, maybe less if Ashara could act like a Sith for once. They’d leave her alone in here if she simply acted like a Sith instead of a scared alien Padawan. So Revel would make sure to keep Denravi safe until Drellik got here.

“Why are you doing this to me, Sith?” Revel asked, his voice barely audible. He ran his fingers through her hair, smelling the lemon and sage scent she favored. “Every day I wake up, wondering if this is the day you push me over the edge.”

His fingers tightened around his blaster. He’d feel better if he could have both out, but one would have to do. “And every day, all I have to do is look at your face and realize there is no edge,” Revel said, holding her closer with his free arm. “See what happens when you let ghosts try to kill you? I get sentimental. You’ll have to get me pretty damn drunk if you ever want me to say that to your face.”

Taking solace in the steady sound of her breathing, Revel kissed her temple. “Funny how this is going down. How many outs have you given me, huh? And now you might be the one leaving me.” He didn’t even want to think about what lay ahead of them if she woke up. The ghosts in her head would slowly drive her mad before killing her outright. Revel tried to think of his life without her.

He came up empty.

“Damnit,” Revel muttered, the reality of his feelings hitting him smack in the face. He loved her. Had for a while, most likely. Part of him wanted to say the words out loud, see how they felt on his tongue. But instead he’d keep them close, bury them a bit and see what sprouted when things finally came to light. “Damnit, Sith.”

“Revel?”

Revel looked up, hearing Drellik call his name. Good thing he did. Mood he was in, he’d be tempted to shoot anything that moved.  “Over here,” he yelled, flinching at how his voice echoed in the large room.

Drellik already had out his medkit and started to work even before kneeling down next to Denravi. “What happened?” Drellik asked. “Here, lay her down.”

Handling Denravi as carefully as he could, Revel lay her on the ground, taking extra care to make sure her head didn’t hit the hard stone floor. Looking up, he saw Ashara and Zash – he could tell now it was Zash, thanks to its posture -  guarding the stairs, making sure they had complete privacy.

He reached out his hand before he could stop himself, placing it on Drellik’s forearm. The officer looked taken aback by the contact. “Fix her,” Revel said, his voice as coarse as sand. “Fix her, please.”

“I’ll do my best,” Drellik said with a crisp nod, before kneeling down next to Denravi.

Revel moved to talk to Ashara and Zash. He had no healing skills and would only get in the way of Drellik if he hovered. “What happened?” Ashara asked, her eyes full of concern.

“Ghosts overwhelmed her,” Revel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re trying to take over, it sounded like.”

Zash cocked her head. “Have her dreams gotten worse?”

Revel nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He never meant to betray Denravi’s confidence by telling Zash about her dreams, but when she thrashed about in bed night after night, he just felt so damn _helpless._ “Every damn night, now.”

“I have some ideas,” Zash said. “Assuming she wakes up, there’s research I’ll need to do.”

“I’ll help,” Ashara said, her voice soft. She bit at a thumb nail, looking always as worried as Revel felt. Ashara had gotten surprisingly attached to Denravi. He supposed it was some Force thing.

Revel looked at Denravi, laying completely still. Funny how she looked almost restful. “Anything, Drellik?” He walked over to them and squatted down. Her eyes moved behind their lids, but if that was a good sign or not, damned if he knew.

“She should wake soon.”

Putting a hand over his mouth, Revel stared at the woman who managed to entwine herself into his soul without him even realizing. He _loved_ her, and one day, he’d find the words to tell her.

He tried to picture the road ahead of them. Researching, looking for a sure to a disease which had no name and caused by ghost. But Revel would stay by her side through the worst of it. No doubt she would expect him to take off after this; a sane man would.

Good thing everyone always told him he was crazy.


	6. Malavai Quinn Romance - The Fury

**Class:** Sith Warrior

 **When:**  Chapter III, Post Transponder Station

* * *

 

The moment the door shut safely behind him, Quinn slumped down in the officer’s chair on the bridge. Generally, he prided himself of never sitting down while on duty, but he didn’t actually know if he was on duty, did he? Anyway, he simply couldn’t stand on his feet any longer. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

Maevry’s body language all but screamed ‘stay away’ when she stalked into their quarters. He could bunk in the men’s barracks for a bit, but Pierce would be there. And the man would either laugh or try to kill him. One thing Quinn could not fault Pierce for was his loyalty to their lord.

That left the bridge as his only refuge, and even it provided no comfort. Every inch of the bridge had memories which haunted him. In that corner, Quinn experienced the happiest moment of his life, when Maevry agreed to marry him. Then across the way, stood the wall they made love against a number of times.

What had  _happened?_

Everything had made so much sense before the fight. Darth Baras had contacted him while they were on Voss, explaining what they needed to do for the good of the Empire. Quinn, naturally, resisted the idea at first. Maevry was his  _wife._  But the more Baras spoke, the more Quinn realized she put her own goals ahead of the Empires. That simply could not be tolerated and he began the calculations at once.

But now…

Quinn rubbed his temples, trying to lessen the pounding in his head. How could he have doubted Maevry, even just for a moment? Like him, she only wanted the best for the Empire and fought for that vision every day. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with her.

And yet he overlooked all of that and tried to kill her. He had tried to kill his wife. Thank the stars he hadn’t succeeded. Glancing at the door behind him, Quinn wondered how many minutes of life he had left. She didn’t kill him on the station, as was her right, but perhaps she didn’t want to lower herself to kill a traitor. Perhaps Pierce or Broonmark would walk through that door any minute now. Quinn wouldn’t resist if they did.

He thought of all the dreams he had that would never see fruition now. A week ago, he dreamed of standing by Maevry’s side as they brought glory to the Empire. Then there was his most cherished hope, watching his wife grow heavy with their child, raising a son or daughter together, ideally with her eyes.

His eyes closed and Quinn leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Becoming so overwhelmed by his grief for the child he would never meet, he almost missed the door opening then closing behind him. Quinn choose not to react, not wanting to give his executioner the satisfaction.

But then he heard Maevry’s soft footfall and he gulped. So she had decided to kill him herself. Quinn had not expected that honor. At least the last thing he saw in this galaxy would be her face…

“Malavai.” 

Her tone was soft and gentle, not angry at all. Quinn inhaled sharply at the use of his given name, then stood at attention at once, staring out the viewport. “My lord.”

She let out almost an inaudible sigh before saying, “At ease, Captain.”

Quinn heard the weariness in her voice and it killed him, knowing he was the main reason it could be heard. He wanted nothing more than to hold her then and protect her while she slept, letting her truly rest. Instead, he turned to face his wife, settling into a parade rest.

“Thank you for giving me time to meditate,” Maevry said, clasping her arms firmly behind her back. Quinn knew that move. She did that when she wanted to fret, wanted to twist her fingers together, but needed to look professional. “I know we really couldn’t speak on the station, not in front of Jaesa. Perhaps we could talk now.”

“Of course,” Quinn said at once, amazed she would give him a chance to speak at all. “My lord, if I may apol-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Maevry said angrily. The calm demeanor she had walking onto the bridge snapped away. She started pacing the small bridge space. “This entire debacle is completely my fault.”

“Your fault?” Quinn asked in disbelief. “My lord, I tried to  _kill_ you.”

“Yes, and you failed miserably, which leads me to believe Baras coerced you. Droids, Quinn? Really? Do you not remember Balmorra when I single handedly destroyed the  station. You told me then I was not a typical Sith.” Maevry stopped pacing and placed her hands on her hips. “If you truly wanted me dead you would have killed me in my sleep. You know plenty of methods to make it appear I died a natural death, I’m sure.”

“The thought hadn’t even occurred to me,” Quinn admitted. Why hadn’t it? He could have had her killed a dozen different ways, thanks to her trust in him, and he only begun to think of them now. The pounding in his head grew stronger, like a dozen drums in sync.

“When did you start the calculations on the droids?” Maevry asked softly.

Closing his eyes, Quinn answered, “Just after we arrived on Voss. Baras contacted me through Darth Severin’s office.”

“And used the Force to manipulate you, no doubt,” Maevry said. She sat down on one of the chairs and leaned back, crossing her legs. She looked absolutely exhausted and it pained him to see. “I was overconfident. I should have realized Baras would try to use you. But you hadn’t sent him a report since we wed and I just assumed…”

“A report?” Quinn asked in surprise. “My lord, you knew I sent him reports on your activities?”

She gave him a look that told him she questioned his sanity at the moment. “Of course I knew. I assumed you knew that I knew, which is why you gave him hardly anything of value.” She smiled weakly. “Baras must have been quite frustrated. Placing a spy on my ship and he hardly got anything for his trouble.”

“I tried to serve you both faithfully, in the beginning,” Quinn admitted.

“I know,” Maevry said. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” She brought her knees up to her chest and Quinn was struck by how young she looked. “I failed you, Malavai. I let you became a pawn between two warring Sith.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Quinn said at once, meaning the words. He was a Captain in the Imperial Army, after all. He understood the risks of working for Sith.

“Don’t say that so quickly,” Maevry said, her voice sounding miserable. “I need to ask you to do something first.” She stood up, looking stronger. “I worry that because of your years dealing with Baras he might have left more of an impression on you than you realize. A sort of foothold into your mind.”

“That would explain why I deferred to him so quickly on Voss,” Quinn said. He remembered protesting, saying that Baras tried to kill his wife and would never receive support from him again. But Baras kept talking and the next thing Quinn knew, he had a pad of droid algorithms in his hand.

“May I check?” Maevry asked. “If there is any corruption, I believe I have I the skill to dispel it.”

Quinn raised both eyebrows. “Do it!” he said, his voice almost a shout. The thought that Baras left anything lingering in his head that could cause him to hurt his wife again pained him almost more than he could bear. She nodded and took a step towards him, biting her lower lip. “Why the hesitation? Maevry, please.”

His voicing her given name spurred her to action. Any trace of doubt left her face as she stood in front of him, raising her hands, until they rested on either side of his temple. “This might hurt a bit,” Maevry said, closing her eyes.

He couldn’t imagine anything could hurt more than the moment the fog cleared and he had realized what exactly he had done to Maevry on the station. But then he felt the pressure in the center of his brain, which almost brought him to his knees. Quinn reached out to grab the wall to steady himself, taking deep breaths, willing the vice that held his mind hostage to loosen.

“Just a little more, Malavai,” she whispered. “It’s a stubborn little speck, but I’m stronger.”

The confidence in her voice eased his pain a bit. Physical pain and he were old friends, but this, this mental pain was unlike anything he had experienced before. Quinn shot out his hands before he could stop himself, gripping Maevry’s waist, hard enough to leave small bruises.

“There,” Maevry said, her voice triumphant. The pain cleared at once and any will of staying upright left Quinn at her words and he collapsed to the floor. She followed him to the ground and he felt her hugging him to her body. “Damn Baras. He will never hurt you again, Malavai. I promise. He will suffer for what he’s done to you.”

Sleep, he needed sleep. Perhaps sleep would stop eluding him now that Baras no longer kept residence in his mind. Keeping his eyes closed tight, Quinn relaxed as Maevry stroked his hair, before resting his head in her lap. Everything would work out now. Baras would be defeated. Maevry would be the one to end him. She promised.

She always kept her promises.


	7. Doc Romance - The Defender

**Class:** Jedi Knight

 **When:**  Chapter III, On the way to Corellia

* * *

 

“Archie?”

Doc felt his cheeks warm, as they always did when she said his given name. The only time she did was in the privacy of her, well, their quarters. Never in front of the crew. In front of them he was always ‘Doc.’ He still couldn’t quite believe he didn’t mind her calling him Archie. Then again, her argument of which name he would prefer to hear when she came was quite persuasive.

He sat on the side of the bed, naked, not even using the sheet to cover himself. “Go back to sleep, beautiful,” Doc said, trying to sound casual. “Ol’ Doc just has a lot on his mind.”

With any other woman, the line would have worked. They would have seen his mussed up hair and his five o’clock shadow and been content to let him brood while they went back to sleep. But not Penilyn.

“Nice try,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

He heard her shifting in bed, while his toes dug into the carpet. Her arms wrapped around him as he felt her straddling his hips with her thighs, finally resting the smooth skin of her cheek against his upper back. Grabbing her hands, Doc closed his eyes, and let her warmth wash over him.

“You know, this is supposed to be our wedding night,” Penilyn said softly, squeezing his hands. “Didn’t expect to wake up to find you so morose.”

_Our wedding night._

Three words Doc never expected to hear in his lifetime. But like Penilyn said after their vows, he couldn’t imagine things any other way. He never imagined that women like her actually existed. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe she was the only one. Made special order just for Doc. “Yeah, I just…”

She placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and hugged him tighter. “Having second thoughts?” she asked. Her tone was light, but Doc heard the worry there. He hated making her doubt, even just for a moment.

“Not in a million years, gorgeous,” Doc said emphatically. He felt her relax against him. If only it was as easy to erase his own doubts about things. “You’re the one thing in this galaxy I’m sure about.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Penilyn asked, putting her palms on his thighs. They felt warm, warmer than hands should feel. He’d have to find out for good one of these days if she really did use Jedi tricks in bed. But part of him didn’t want to know one way or the other. 

“Just worried, I guess,” Doc admitted. How could he tell her he was terrified on her behalf? “The Council’s put so much pressure on you.” He took a breath before realizing how that sounded. “Not that you can’t handle it, of course.”

Her fingers started trailing up his inner thighs and Doc felt himself responding. “Well,” she said, nibbling the back of his neck. She always knew how to distract him. “We have a great team in place. And I have you. My secret weapon.”

And there was the crux of it.

He had worked his way onto this boat thanks to his natural charisma and their initial attraction to each other. His hope was to be just a shipboard medic, he hadn’t expected Penilyn to bring him along on missions to make sure she stayed in fighting shape. Not that he wanted to complain about that or anything. But…

Yes, he was a good doctor. Scratch that. He was a great doctor. One of the best. But good enough for Penilyn? To keep her alive against the Emperor himself?

“I don’t want to lose you,” Doc said roughly.

“I’m scared, too,” Penilyn said. Her voice was quiet and all Doc wanted was to lose himself in the lull and safety of her words. “I keep reminding myself, ‘There is no emotion. There is peace.’ But the Jedi Code isn’t helping in this case.”

“But do you even believe that?” Doc asked, turning sideways on the bed, one leg dangling on the floor. Next to him, Penilyn brought her knees up to her chest. “I know for a fact you feel emotion.”

“My interpretation might be a bit different than intended,” Penilyn said with a wry smile. “Story of my life.” Sliding back under the covers, she patted the space next to her. Doc didn’t hesitate and joined her, arranging the quilt so he had a good view of her naked torso. It was their wedding night, after all.

“So how do you view it?” Doc asked curiously, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. They never really talked about this. He knew she broke the Jedi Code to be with him, but he never thought to ask why, besides the obvious, that he was simply irresistible. Well, and that she loved him.

Penilyn bit her lower lip ans looked thoughtful. “I look at that phrase as a reminder not to let emotion rule my life. Emotion can influence things, of course. I would have never married you otherwise. But I can’t let that overpower everything else,” she said, putting her hand on his hip. “As important as my love for you is, Archie, I won’t ever let it define me. Just like I won’t let the fear I feel for the upcoming fight overwhelm me. I won’t let it win.”

And just like that, he understood perfectly. He could feel fear about the upcoming battles on Corellia. He could and he would. But Doc would be strong like his wife. He wouldn’t let his fears win and he’d damn well do everything in his power to make sure the two them make it home safe.

He reached for her then, bringing Penilyn in close before kissing her. A Jedi had no right to be such a great kisser. But damn if he wasn’t glad for those skills.

Breaking away, Doc looked at Penilyn, with her tousled up hair and those freckles that would be the death of him some day. “It can’t win, sweetheart,” he said seriously as he pushed her onto her back, before settling between her legs. “We have a honeymoon to plan.”


	8. Felix Iresso Romance - The Defender II

**Class:** Jedi Consular

 **When:** Chapter III, before the Javelin

* * *

“CEDRAX!”

The shout jolted V'ryss from her meditation. Reaching out with the Force, she could feel the anxiety and dread surrounding the ship. Not content to simply let matters run their course, V'ryss stood up, wrapping her robe tightly around her, ready to investigate.

She followed the heightened sense of alarm towards the cargo bay. On her way, she passed Tharan stumbling out of the medbay. “I am in the middle of a number of delicate experiments,” he grumbled, running his hand through his hair. “I do not have time, my Jedi, to be interrupted whenever one of these buffoons you insist keeping on this ship has a papercut.”

Holiday popped up out of nowhere. “Hurry, Tharan.”

Her words spurred Tharan into action, running at full speed into the cargo bay. V'ryss followed at a slightly slower pace, not wanting to delay him. She tried to figure out what might have happened. The cargo bay was used as an unofficial training room. Her companions worked out and sparred there often. If they required Tharan, an injury must have occurred.

But who? Surely she would be able to tell if Felix was inured? Though their bond was still so raw and new.

The answer to her question came more quickly than she’d like, seeing a pool of maroon blood on the floor. “Zenith,” V'ryss said under her breath.

Tharan knelt by the Twi’lek’s side, already applying a med pack. Zenith looked pale, but she sensed life in him and a slow steady pulse. “Holiday, darling, prep the kolto tank, please.” His voice was calm, the same demeanor she had grown used to on the battlefield.

Holiday blinked out of the room, leaving the rest of her companions. Qyzen stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest. Felix paced uncomfortably on one side. Based on his body language, V'ryss guessed that he caused the injury to Zenith.

“Qyzen, Iresso, a little help, please,” Tharan said, standing up.

“He’ll be okay?” Felix asked.

“An hour in the kolto tank will do wonders,” Tharan said. “Can you two carry him into the medbay? Gently, please?”

V'ryss watched in silence as the men carefully picked Zenith up. Blood pooled on the right side of his tunic, where the injury must be. She tried to catch Felix’s eye, but he refused to look at her.

“What’s going on?” Nadia asked as she jogged into the cargo bay. “I felt something.” V'ryss watched her scan the room and her eyes land on Zenith. “Oh no! Is he alright?”

“He’ll be fine, my dear Padawan,” Tharan said as he performed another medscan.

V'ryss stayed in the cargo bay to clean up, letting the rest of her companions go with Zenith. The medbay was small and it would do no one good to hover. Best to work on tangible goals, like cleaning. Tharan could give her a full report later.

“Well, he’s in the tank,” Felix said, walking into the room a while later. He looked tired and weary. “Cedrax says he’ll be okay with a little rest…”

Throwing away a rag, V'ryss sat down on a nearby crate and patted the space next to her, inviting him to join her. Felix lowered his chin and walked forward. Standing in front of her, he held out his hand. V'ryss brought his hand to her lips and waited. Felix would tell her what happened when he was ready.

He sat down and V'ryss felt his body warmth thanks to his loose workout gear. “All my fault,” he said finally. “I’m an idiot.”

“You know that’s not true,” V'ryss said softly, squeezing his hand.

“Qyzen and Zenith have been helping me out,” Felix said. “I’ve been… trying to learn how to heal.”

“Heal?” V'ryss said, blinking rapidly. “Whatever for?”

Felix put his head in his hands. “Because I told you, I’m an idiot.”

“Please stop saying that,” V'ryss said gently, placing a hand on the back of his neck. “You’re speaking of someone I care a great deal about.” She leaned in to him. “There’s nothing wrong with learning new skills.”

“There is if it’s for the wrong reasons,” Felix said moodily. He sat up straight and let out an annoyed sigh. “I thought… maybe if I learned how to heal, you might bring me along on missions more instead of Cedrax.”

V'ryss looked down at her hands. She would love to bring Felix along with her more than she did. But for an extended trip away from the ship, Tharan was the most logical choice thanks to his healing abilities.

“So I talked to Qyzen and Zenith, asked if they’d let me patch them up after sparring,” Felix said, still staring down at the floor.

“And they agreed?” V'ryss asked.

“Never hurts to have another healer,” Felix said, with a shrug. “I think I got cocky. Zenith told Qyzen to let loose. And did Qyzen ever let loose. I couldn’t stop the blood. There was just so much damn blood.”

She remained silent, sensing there was more to what he had to say. Her fingers traced the lines of the tattoo on his neck, then sliding down to his shoulder, where she traced the pattern by memory.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“For?” V'ryss asked. “All I’ve heard is that you’d like to spend more time with me.” She cocked her head and felt a sense of shame radiating off of Felix. “Unless, this is really about me spending less time with Tharan?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Felix said. “At first I think I wanted to learn out of spite. He’s so damn smug sometimes. And I know you were only with him one night and that you’re with me and he has Holiday…”

V'ryss, as a rule, did not question her past actions. Second guessing led to doubt, which was something she could not afford. But occasionally she wished she hadn’t been selfish the night she slept with Tharan, that she had told him no. It certainly caused more problems than the solution she had hoped for.

“Are you saying you don’t trust me alone with Tharan?” V'ryss asked quietly.

His eyes widened. “No!” he said, sitting up straight and turning towards her. He grabbed her hands anxiously. “Please, don’t ever think I don’t trust you. I trust you in anything and everything,” Felix said, palming her cheek with his hand. ““V'ryss, I love you.”

“And I love you,” she said lightly. “I love you for who you are, not who you might become.”

“That Jedi speak for ‘stop trying to heal?’” Felix said. He chuckled and V'ryss sensed some of the stress and doubt leave his body.  

“Not at all,” V'ryss said, turning so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “If you want to learn how to heal, I’d welcome it. But I would encourage you to learn from Tharan instead of on your own.”

“Doubt he’d want to teach me,” Felix grumbled.

“Perhaps if you appealed to his better nature,” V'ryss said. “Or possibly his vanity.”

She scooted in closer as Felix put his arm around her shoulders. “Vanity sounds about right. Humble myself a bit and he’ll be happy to lord it over me,” he said.

“You’re talking about learning skills that keep people alive, that heal them, Felix,” V’ryss said, putting her hand on his knee. “I’d say learning that sort of power is humbling.”

Felix took a breath. “You’re right,” he said. “These are skills to keep _you_ alive. That’s worth anything.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Including a lecture by Tharan.” 


	9. Andronikos Revel Romance - The Fury

**Class:** Sith Inquisitor

 **When:** Chapter I, before Alderaan

* * *

 

“Sith.”

“Pirate.”

Denravi steps away from the practice dummy as Revel casually walks into the training room, wearing loose workout clothes. He nods once before standing in front of the weapons rack. Expecting him to pick up his usual ranged weapon, she raises an eyebrow as he grabs a practice saber.

“Here,” he says, throwing the weapon towards her. Denravi lets the weapon land at her feet, not even attempting to catch it as he takes another practice saber from the rack.

“I beg your pardon?”

Revel gives her a grin. “You plan on taking me with you when we hit Alderaan?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I had considered it, yes,” Denravi admits. Even with just the brief time they fought together on Tatooine, she realizes he’s a better fit for her style than Khem Val. The Dashade wouldn’t like it, but she finds she didn’t particularly care.

“Then we have work to do,” Revel says. He points at the practice saber at her feet with his own saber. “Let’s go.”

“And I’m supposed to take pointers from you?” she asks, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “You’re a ranged fighter.”

“You’ve got potential, Sith,” Revel says, ignoring her words. Denravi’s hands curl into fists. She does not like being ignored. “You lack subtlety. You sneak up on someone, stab them in the back and bludgeon them to death.”

“I would have thought by now you’d realize I prefer the direct approach,” Denravi says, letting her eyes linger on the curve of his shoulders. “It’s worked so far.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says with a chuckle. “But we dealt with unorganized mercs on Nar Shaddaa and Tatooine.” He reaches behind him, stretching his shoulders. “Alderaan? They’ve got professionals there. An army. Republic will be there, maybe even Jedi. You’ve got to improve.”

“And you expect to be the one to improve me?” Denravi asks, surprised how much the thought appeals to her.

“Wasn’t always a pirate, you know,” Revel says with a shrug.

“Because I’m sure you had so many opportunities fighting for Moneyland,” she snaps back, furious at her need to know more. He’s a damn space pirate and she is Sith. Who he is shouldn’t concern her one bit. Yet she senses the layers and tangles inside him and wants _more._

He turns the saber lazily in his hand, clearly showing experience with the weapon. “Someone had to protect the money.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Denravi picks up the practice saber at her feet. “What do you need me to do?” she says, putting a pout into her voice.

“I’m just going to stand here,” Revel says. “Attack me like anyone else.” He pauses and looks at her hands. “Just none of that fancy schmancy lightning, okay?”

“That fancy schmancy lightning keeps me alive,” Denravi says, putting a hand on her hip.

“Yeah, and how often does it wear you out, Sith?” he asks. “How many times have you had to rely on melee because you can’t sustain the Force?”

More often than she cares to admit. Bloody Zash. The woman should be honing Denravi’s skills instead of sending her on errands across the galaxy, doing her dirty work. There is so much Denravi doesn’t know about the Sith way of life. She doesn’t like having to play catch up all the time.

At her silence, he snorts. “That’s what I thought,” he says, turning his back to her. “Now attack me.”

She took a breath and let the Force conceal her. She takes a step forward and prepares to attack when Revel says, “Have you tested the weapon yet? Tried a move or two? Check the balance?”

“No,” Denravi says without thinking. But instead of doing any of those things, she goes on the offensive, starting with a Maul. The practice saber hits Revel square in the back.

He doesn’t hesitate, turning on his heel, parrying her blade. He lunges, but Denravi is faster and moves out of the way, causing him to become slightly unbalanced. She takes advantage and swings her saber low and behind his knees. The move topples him to the ground. “Good one,” he grunts as he stands up. He holds up a hand. “That wasn’t a Sith move. I know Sith moves. Where’d you learn that?”

Denravi looks down at the floor, trying to catch her breath. She knew this was bound to come up sooner or later. “It was Chiss, actually.” His brow furrows, but he says nothing. She feels put on the defensive, and she doesn’t like it. “Yes, I’m not Chiss, but I grew up on Csilla. I picked up a thing or two before I became Force sensitive.”

“Slave?” Revel asks softly. She looks at him sharply and he puts his hands up in surrender. “Been to Csilla a few times. Only other humans I saw there were all slaves.”

“Yes, I was a slave,” Denravi says. Her voice is clear and she hopes he understands she doesn’t want one ounce of sympathy.

“How’d you get out?” Revel asks curiously.

“Does it matter?” Denravi spats. She makes point of not looking at him and instead practices a Thrash at an imaginary opponent. “I am Sith.” He’s still looking at her, head tilted and it’s disconcerting, thinking he might be as curious about her as she is him. She relents, but only in hopes he might reveal a bit about his past, she tells herself. “Fine. I realized how to make myself disappear at a young age. My master learned of it and I killed him. Turns out a Sith was visiting the house, and wouldn’t let the family kill me in response and sent me to Korriban instead.”

“Happy ending, then,” Revel says, with a nod of his head. “Not every story ends up with one.”

She thinks of his story, becoming a pirate and then having to kill every single member of his crew. About as far as a happy ending as one could get. Well, he’s part of her crew now. They’ll write a new story. But for now, they’ve shared enough. “Are we here to gossip or practice?”

He grins, and the tattoo around his eye crinkles, causing her to wonder if he’s inked anywhere else. “And you thought you didn’t want to learn.” 


	10. Felix Iresso Romance - The Defender III

**Class:** Jedi Consular

 **When:** Chapter III, after Voss

* * *

 

V'ryss lay on her side, trying to remember the last time she felt so content. Naked in bed, her body covered with a thin layer of sweat, her hair an absolute mess and Felix right across from her.

“How much longer do we have?” she asked. His surprise of forced privacy had been one of his better ideas.

“Just over two hours,” Felix said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “Sort of wish we had longer.”

V'ryss took a breath, realizing the gravity of what she was about to offer. With so many diplomats on the ship, word would no doubt make it back to the Jedi Council. Perhaps those same diplomats would find her less worthy as an ambassador. No matter. So much had happened, she wanted Felix by her side through the brunt of it.

“If you want, you’re free to spend your nights here,” V'ryss said softly, reaching out for his hand. “I’d like the company.”

“Yeah?” Felix asked. V'ryss felt a gentle pressure as he squeezed her hand. “People will talk. You know how ship scuttlebutt goes.”

“They can talk all they like,” V'ryss said, hearing the defiance in her voice. “Everything is so mixed up right now. I just want to spend as much time as possible with you.”

“I’d like that,” Felix said, a smile on his lips. “I’d like that a lot.” He leaned forward and kissed her. V'ryss breathed in deeply, trying to take him all in. She loved the way he smelled out of armor. Reminded her of the woods of Tython.

“So how shall we occupy ourselves for the next two hours?” V'ryss asked slyly, sliding her palm up Felix’s thigh.

Letting out a bark of a laugh, Felix said, “Oh believe me, we will. I just need a little more time to recover first.”

She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Fair enough,” she said, settling her head back on the pillow.

“That a Chiss thing?” Felix asked curiously. “Being able to go again right away?”

“I wouldn’t know, actually,” V'ryss said. “I’ve never had sex with a Chiss.”

“Really?”

“Well, it’s not like there are a lot of Chiss in Republic space,” V'ryss said, shrugging a shoulder. “So I never bothered to look anything up on the holonet when I was young.”

“Fair enough,” Felix said. His next words sounded too casual to be a spur of a moment suggestion. She heard a rehearsed quality to his voice. “Maybe we could just talk to waste some time. There has to be something you’re curious about. How bout you ask me a question and I’ll ask you one?”

“Thought you don’t want me giving up all my secrets,” V'ryss said, teasing him a bit.

“You won’t be. Just one or two until I’m recovered enough to ravish you again,” Felix said, kissing her shoulder. “You first.”

“Your tattoos,” V'ryss blurted out at once. Until this afternoon, she assumed he only had the facial tattoo. But then as they slowly undressed each other, she was pleasantly surprised to discover they went down the entire right side of his body. His shoulder, his torso, hip, thigh, calf and even ankle.

“Think of them as an Iresso family history lesson,” Felix said. “It’s a home world thing. Went out of favor for a while, but after the Empire came, lots of us started up again.”

“How does it work?” V'ryss asked, tracing the tattoo on his hip with the tip of her finger.

Felix shuddered before saying, “At 18, I get the same tattoo as my father. A daughter would take her mother’s. Then every time something big happens, say I get married or someone close to me dies, I’ll add to the tattoo.”

“So your life story is etched into your skin,” V'ryss said softly. “That’s a beautiful idea. Have you added to the tattoo at all?”

Pointing to a small circle on his shoulder, he said, “This is for my mother.” V'ryss leaned forward and kissed the spot, thinking of the type of woman who would have raised a son like Felix. “She was a good woman. She would have liked you.”

“I’m sure it would have been mutual,” V'ryss said. “Thank you for telling me about your tattoos.”

“That mean it’s my turn?”

V'ryss took a breath, wondering what her blank wanted to know. “Yes.”

“I’m going to start this by admitting I tried to find the answer myself,” Felix said, running his finger through her hair. “But personal information about Jedi is almost impossible to find.”

“For good reason,” V'ryss said, kissing his nose.

“You’re right, of course, but that doesn’t help poor Republic lieutenants trying to get the dirt on their girlfriends,” Felix said.

With a chuckle, V'ryss turned to lie on her back. “Ask what you wish,” she said. “I am an open book.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Felix said. “So… Just how old are you?”

Letting out a sigh, V'ryss closed her eyes. “I hoped you would never ask that question.”

“Why?” Felix said. “Are you a lot older than you look? I’m thirty-one if that matters at all.” He nuzzled her neck and V'ryss felt herself responding to his touch. “Nothing wrong with an attractive older woman.”

“How old do you think I am?” V'ryss asked, turning the question around.

“Mid twenties, though when you act the diplomat you seem much older,” Felix said.

V'ryss turned to look at him. “You need to understand something,” she said. “Chiss and Humans age differently.”

“Yeah?” Felix asked, and she could see the curiosity in his eyes. “How so?”

“Chiss have a much shorter childhood than Human children. Physically and mentally, Chiss reach adulthood by age thirteen,” V'ryss said. “So a thirteen year old Chiss is the equivalent of an eighteen year old Human.”

“Which makes you…” Felix trailed off.

“I turned seventeen not long ago.”

Felix turned over onto his back and let out a deep breath. “And you’re an adult. Even though you’re only seventeen years old.”

“Exactly. I’m an adult. I have been for some time,” V'ryss repeated. She sensed that he was slightly uncomfortable with the idea. “I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry, Felix.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Felix said at once. “You have nothing to apologize for. I never thought to look up anything about Chiss biology.” His hand found hers and V'ryss gave it a squeeze. “And you’re okay with me being twice your age?”

“What’s a few years between friends?” V’ryss asked with a laugh.

With a smooth movement, she sat up and straddled his hips. She let her hands follow the path of his tattoo down from his shoulder. Someday, she’d ask him about all the marking, each circle and square and learn all his history. And she wondered, if she would ever be important enough in his life to warrant adding to the story.

By the way he looked up at her, love in his eyes, somehow she thought she just might. 


	11. Malavai Quinn Romance - Hoth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So generally, I’m pretty happy with all of the timing of the romances. The only exception is the Sith Warrior romance. I think to get the full scale of what happens in Act III in the Transponder Station, the romance needs to move more quickly. Hence, the first time they sleep together in my head is on the way to Hoth, not post Act II.

**Class:** Sith Warrior

 **When:**  Chapter II, Hoth

* * *

 

Quinn straightened his uniform one last time. It wouldn’t do to have anything out of place when he saw his Lord this morning, not after her teasing comment of finally seeing his uniform on the floor last night.

His thoughts lingered on how she looked then, lying languidly on her side, hair loose around her shoulders. Stars, she was beautiful. And now, after the gift Maevry had given him, he had no doubt. To think he was the first… She truly wanted to be with him.

He never thought she had lied to him exactly, merely exaggerated. One hears stories of the sexual appetite of the Sith, after all. But then Quinn saw the grimace on her face as they joined and the small pool of blood afterward. And as they made love, he whispered encouraging sweet nothings in her ear as she clung to him like she never wanted to let him go.

All in all, it had been a  _very_  goodnight.

But now Quinn needed to focus on the task at hand. Their Lord Baras trusted them with a monumental undertaking. Quinn would not let them down. He would do all in his power to ensure that the operation on Hoth was a complete success.

“Ready, Captain?”

She stood at the doorway of the ship, wearing her favored tunic and trousers, not a single hair out of place. Pushing down a swell of desire, Quinn nodded briskly. “My Lord.”

One hurdle overcome. He had been concerned that the change in their relations might affect their day to day working relationship. He shouldn’t have doubted. Maevry had never been anything but a complete professional outside of the bridge, where they had privacy. And her quarters. Where he had slept last night.

_Damnit, man, pull yourself together._

“Then let’s get started,” Maevry said.

Between the trip to the surface and dealing with various military and Sith, several hours passed before they were alone and ready to venture forth. Quinn fished two ration bars from the pockets of his uniform tunic and offered one to Maevry.

Her eyes lit up at the packaging. “Almond butter! Did you choose my favorite on purpose, Captain?” she said with a smile. 

He had, but she certainly didn’t need to know that. “Luck of the draw, my Lord,” he said, unwrapping his own apple flavored bar.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Maevry said, her voice soft, “To think so many lives ended on this planet... The Force is strong here, especially the dark side.”

Quinn listened carefully to her talk. She so rarely discussed the Force to anyone outside of Jaesa. Especially the balance between light and dark, considering Maevry tended to err on the side of light. “Does that bother you at all?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Maevry said. “Even though I prefer the light, do not doubt there is dark within me. If I thought the Empire was threatened and the only way to stop it would be to commit to the dark side, I would not hesitate.”

“That is admirable, to know one’s self so well,” Quinn said. She handed Quinn the wrapper, and he wondered if the way her fingers lingered on his was a bit deliberate. He placed both wrappers back in a pocket, not willing to leave any sort of a trail.

“Whenever you’re ready, my Lord. I believe the contingent of Republic soldiers should be to the east,” Quinn said, unholstering his blaster.

She nodded and they started to walk, Maevry on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into a Force Leap at any moment. A shout close by could be heard and Maevry froze. Her eyes closed and Quinn waited in anticipation, never tiring of seeing the transformation from Maevry into a Sith Lord.

At once it occurred. The moment her hands touched her lightsabers the transition was complete. With a Force Leap, Maerbry attacked the Republic healer. The three other soldiers all focused their attacks on her, allowing Quinn to fire at will.

As always, Maevry fought with her heart outside her chest. Outside of battle, one might call her reserved, but in the heat of the moment, even a non-Force sensitive like he could feel the power and emotion flow through her.

Anger that someone dare challenge her authority. Hatred of chaos and the unknown. Her passion for the Empire, that it serve its citizens as best it should. But today Quinn sensed something else. A sexual undercurrent he had never felt from her before.

His body responded, understanding that those feelings radiated from her because of  _him._  He had done that. Never had he seen her so focused or determined. Their one night together had changed her relationship with the Force.

They worked together, defeating the Republic soldiers then sabotaging the arrays as the Darth’s request. Once finished, Maevry put her hands on her knees, catching her breath. “Did you sense it?” Maevry asked, her voice crisp and unwavering. She looked at him, bright eyed.

Quinn prided himself on his restraint. He was a Captain in the Imperial Army, after all, not an undiscplined school boy. But he decided no sane man could resist the look in his lord’s eyes. So he didn’t, pushing Maevry up against the wall and kissed her with a hunger that startled him.

The small shelter housing the generator protected them from the elements, thankfully. Quinn decided to take his time and kiss her properly, bringing her hips flush against his, so she could feel just how much she had affected him.

“Do you believe me now?” Maebry whispered as he started to kiss her neck. Her fingers dug into his uniform tunic, trying to bring him closer. “What did I tell you?”

He kissed her hard then, with every ounce of strength he had, before breaking away and answering roughly, “Passion will make us stronger.”

“Yes,” Maevry said, her voice soft as in prayer. “Oh yes.”

Stars, if he could take her now, he would. Maevry would welcome him, no doubt. He could simply turn her around and pull down her trousers… Quinn took a step back and caught his breath. They had a mission to complete. The mission had to come first.

His lord seemed to have the same realization. “We best keep moving,” she said and Quinn didn’t imagine the gleam in her eye. “But I would very much like to revisit this topic tonight.”

“Indeed, my lord,” he said as they headed back out into the cold. Funny how it didn’t seem so chilly now. “You know how much I enjoy a debate. Especially a _thorough_ one.” 


	12. Aric Jorgan Romance - post Hoth

**Class:** Republic Trooper

 **When:** Chapter II, post Hoth

* * *

 

Even after five minutes in the shuttle, Wynneth still felt cold. Hoth seemed to have seeped into her skin and she idly wondered if she’d ever be warm again. She placed her gloved hands on her thighs and tried to get a sense of Jorgan sitting across from her. 

Her XO had been surly ever since they left the Star of Coruscant. She had hoped they might have another shuttle ride like the one from Quesh, where they sat a bit too close to be considered professional and where their hands lingered together a bit too long as he helped her from the shuttle.

But Jorgan had completely closed himself off, his weapon slung across his lap, staring at the shuttle floor. Wynneth wondered if he finally had enough, if he decided that a bit of flirtation with his commanding officer simply wasn’t worth the risk.

If he had, Wynneth couldn’t shake the feeling that they would miss the chance for something special.

As they approached the orbital station, Jorgan stood up, slinging his weapon onto his back, and waited in front of the shuttle door. His body language all but screamed, ‘keep away,’ so Wynneth kept her distance.

The walk to the elevator leading to the ship’s hangar was filled with silence. Wynneth wouldn’t call it an uncomfortable one, but it certainly wasn’t the silence she had grown used to, the one where they could clean their armor or work on mods together, with a knowing smile between them now and then.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. The moment the doors closed behind them, Jorgan slammed his palm against the wall yelling, “Blast it!”

Wynneth felt her heart begin to race at the sudden outburst. “Jorgan!” she said, trying not to sound startled.

She watched as Jorgan grimaced and bit his lower lip. “Sorry about that, sir,” he said, bringing his wrist up to his chest. Wynneth heard the pain in his voice. “Been holding that in for a while.”

The doors opened and they started the walk to the ship. “You want to talk about it?” she asked, ignoring the slight warmth building that he felt comfortable enough with her to let go about something, even when she didn’t know what that something was.

He shrugged as they stood at the door to the ship. “Think I need to get my wrist looked at. I should know better,” he said, shaking his head. “Stupid."

“You want me to wake Dorne?” Wynneth asked as they stepped inside the ship. It was after midnight, ship’s time, so the lights were dimmed and even the droid was quiet for once.

“Nah, let her sleep,” Jorgan said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Think you could take a look?

“Of course,” Wynneth said. She had enough confidence in her healing abilities to fix anything wrong with Jorgan’s wrist. “Let me change out of this armor first.”

Jorgan nodded. “Not a bad idea. I’ll do the same,” he said, sounding more like his normal gruff self. But then he looked down at the ground. “I’d prefer no one else knowing about this. Mind if I just come over to your quarters to get this looked at?”

Wynneth felt her cheeks redden and hoped Jorgan wouldn’t notice. He’d never been in her quarters before. None of the squad had. “Sure,” Wynneth said far too quickly. “Let’s get changed and then come on over.”

“Appreciate it,” Jorgan said. With another nod of the head, he turned and headed towards the common bunk room.

Wynneth all but sprinted into her quarters. As she changed into her normal off-duty clothes of a plain skirt and t-shirt, she looked at her quarters with a critical eye. The place looked clean and organized, just as she hoped.

The minutes passed ridiculously slow as Wynneth paced her quarters. Should she sit on the bed? At her workstation? Simply stand in the middle of the room? Protocol would demand that they simply stand with the door open, but she’d be damned if she wasted this opportunity to spend some private time with Jorgan.

Not that she could ever make the first move, not when she was his commanding officer. No, she’d have to be patient and hope that someday, preferably soon, Jorgan said something.

She heard the knock on the door, opening it quickly. Jorgan strode inside, wearing a pair of workout pants and a t-shirt. Wynneth gave herself just a second to enjoy the curve of his shoulders before motioning him over to the bed.

She purposely sat down first, giving Jorgan the choice to sit as far or as close as he wanted to her. He sat down close, so close their hips were almost touching. Grabbing her med scanner, Wynneth started the reading.

With a deep breath, Wynneth reached for his hand, well aware this was the first time they’d ever touched without their armored gloves. She had wondered what a Cathar’s hide, well, what Jorgan’s hide would feel like for quite a while now.

She hadn’t expected velvet.

“So am I going to live?” Jorgan asked, a wry smile on his face.

Wynneth smiled and pushed back a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Scanner says it’s just a strain,” she said. “I’ll give you a kolto jolt and you should probably go easy on it for a day, but then you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as she prepped the kolto. But then Jorgan let out a long sigh. “I shouldn’t have let it bother me.”

Instead of asking the obvious, Wynneth simply tilted her head towards Jorgan, letting him know she was listening.

“He was a blasted Imp,” Jorgan said, his voice quiet. “Why should I give a damn what an Imp thinks about the Cathar?”

Wynneth furrowed her brow, trying to remember what that Imperial captain had called Zareen in the Star of Coruscant. And then she did.

_Mangy. Subhuman scum._

“Because you’re worried other people think that,” Wynneth said, her voice low as she injected his wrist with the kolto jolt. “Believe me, I under-”

Jorgan stood up and shook his head. “Don’t finish that thought,” he said. The words were harsh but the tone gentle. “You’re human. You _can_ _’t_ understand.”

Her fingers started tracing the cybernetics, the ones that kept the seizures at bay, allowing her to have a normal life, which outlined her right eye. “Not quite human according to some,” she said with a shrug. “But you’re right, it’s completely different.”

His body seemed to deflate a bit as he stood in the center of her room, hands on his hips, but body relaxed. “I wonder if I feel that way sometimes. Maybe it’s why I feel like I have to fight so hard to prove I belong here.”

Wynneth took the risk and stood up, walking next to him. “I told you then that the Cathar would always have a home in the Republic,” she said, putting her hand on his upper arm, feeling the body heat radiating from him. Their eyes met then and Wynneth felt her stomach twist into knots and wondered if this affected him at all. “And as long as I’m CO, you’ll always have a home with Havoc.”

The air around them seemed to change, a tangible change, one she could sense. Neither one of them seemed willing to look away first and somehow, their previous flirtations seemed small in comparison. And Wynneth realized just how deep her feelings went. Scary things, feelings. Especially when it could ruin her career. She shouldn’t do this, _they_ shouldn’t do this, but all she cared about was how they still were looking at each other, far longer than comrades in arms should.

Jorgan broke the spell first, holding up his wrist. “Thanks again, rookie,” he said, taking a step back. “Appreciate the assist.”

She smoothed her skirt against her legs. “Anytime,” she said as they walked towards the closed door. “Travel day tomorrow.”

He nodded. “You want to spar a bit? I’m already bored sparring with Vik.”

“Always enjoy kicking my XO’s ass,” Wynneth said with a laugh. “You’re on.”

Jorgan walked out the door before turning back towards her. “Captain. Wynneth,” he said, raising his chin slightly as if he worried she’d reprimand him for using her given name. “Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice startled her. So she laid herself bare as she answered, “You’re welcome, Aric,” as honestly as she could.

She saw the smile in his eyes as he nodded and Wynneth watched him walk back to the common bunk before heading back into her own quarters. Feeling the subtle vibration in the deck plating indicating the ship was free of the docking bay, Wynneth decided she couldn’t wait to spar tomorrow. 


	13. Malavai Quinn Romance - Rishi

**Who:** Sith Warrior

 **When:** Rishi during  _Shadow of Revan_

* * *

 

Maevry leans against the door, ignoring the cool, clinical walls of the medical facility, and focuses only on her husband, unconscious in a kolto tank. Thanks to the sedatives given, Quinn looks rested, almost peaceful for once; a look she rarely has the luxury to see these days, thanks to Revan.

If Quinn had to become injured, why here on Rishii of all places? She hates the damn place even more now. She wanted to bring him back to the ship, but he insisted that his injuries from the pirates were severe enough that the trip would take too long. So thanks to a quick holocall to Lana, they found a private medical facility. And now Maevry waits.

She _hates_ waiting.

#

The doctor leaves the room and Quinn starts to put on his uniform, methodically and efficiently, the way he’s dressed almost every day of his adult life. He risks a glance at his wife, she’s quiet and still, sitting in a chair, reading a datapad. Trying to catchup on the latest news of the Empire, no doubt. Quinn would need to do the same once he’s out of this blasted facility. Three days in a kolto tank. Three days they couldn’t afford to lose. Three days when he wasn’t by her side.

The look on Maevry’s face is serious, so he tries to lighten the mood a bit. Tugging on his uniform jacket, Quinn says, “I’ll be back at peak efficiency, before you know it, my love.” Maevry looks up at him, then, crossing her arms over her chest, her face blank. His brow furrows. Usually she never fails to smile at the words _peak efficiency_ ; they have become a private joke between them. “My lord?”

“We need to discuss what happened, Captain,” Maevry says softly.

At the use of his title, Quinn straightens into a parade rest. When they’re alone, she only ever calls him captain if they’re discussing work. It’s a distinction that’s works well for them. “What would you like to discuss, my lord?”

“Ilum, Makeb, and now Rishii,” Maevry says with a sigh. “You’ve been seriously wounded on all three planets.”

Quinn wants to retort, wants to defend himself, but she hasn’t given him permission to speak, so he clenches his jaw and waits. What she says is true, but it’s been because of bad luck, is all, not inferior tactics and execution on his part.

She stands, bringing the heel of her hand to her temple. “I think it’s time you consider wearing something other than your uniform out in the field. Perhaps a hard suit like Pierce.”

The first thought that crosses his mind is he will _never_ wear the same hard suit at Pierce. “May I speak, my lord?”

Her voice sounds exasperated when she says, “Of course. You don’t need permission, you _know_ this.”

“The lieutenant and I have different roles out in the field. His whole job is get people to hit him, he needs the heavy armor, I do not,” Quinn says. “It would restrict my movement. I need-”

“And I need to not look behind me to see my husband crumpled on the ground,” Maevry says, anger lacing her words. His wife rarely gets angry outside of battle, it’s something he relishes when he’s there to witness it. Because usually it’s not directed at him. “Leathers, then, something more substantial than an Imperial uniform.”

“My lord, my uniform has a polyplast lining. It _is_ more substantial,” Quinn says. He requisitioned this uniform himself last time they went to Dromund Kaas.

“Then stop getting hit in battle!”

His gaze fell to the floor. He’s failed her, he realizes, his heart beginning to stammer. She’s right, she’s absolutely right. Here he is, trying to make excuses, when the truth is staring him in the face. He no longer fights as good as he did twenty years ago. Granted, Quinn knows the experience he’s had in those twenty years is invaluable. But it’s not the same as being twenty-five and in the prime shape of his life.

Maevry stands next to him now, as she places her small hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Malavai, you’re over forty now,” she says. Her voice is low but thankfully there is no pity in her voice. He couldn’t stand that, not when she’s only twenty-seven years old and still has the best years of her life ahead of her. “There’s no shame in adjusting your strategy. You’re not dodging as quickly as you were. Perhaps it’s time to make allowances.”

“Such as a hard suit?” Quinn says bitterly.

“Yes,” Maevry says. “Why is that such a bad thing? It will keep you safe, so you can keep me safe.”

At her words, he eases out of parade rest and puts his hands on his wife’s waist. He hadn’t thought of it like that. He can’t think of anything he wouldn’t do to keep her safe from harm. Including wearing a hard suit. “I’m sure we can find something workable here on Rishii until we can go back to Dromund Kaas to procure a custom kit.”

“Thank you,” Maevry says, and he’s gratified when she rises up on tiptoes to press her lips against his. “Now let’s get back to it.”

“Of course, my love,” he says. They separate, and Quinn waits a dutiful few steps before following her out the door. “I refuse to wear the same one Pierce has.”

“Would never ask you to,” his wife says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

“Just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal.”


	14. Felix Iresso Romance - Voss

**Class:** Jedi Consular

 **When:** Chapter III, Voss

* * *

 

“See to your friend. Gaden-Ko will wake soon. Leave when you wish, outsider. Go well.”

V'ryss closed her eyes just for a moment and reached out towards Felix using the Force. She felt his relief and a sense of protectiveness that startled her.

And she felt his love for her.

They had headed towards the abyss now for weeks, days, since the moment they met. A decision needed to be made. She could no longer pretend this was a fling or just a pleasant way to ease tension.

Either she must accept that she would break a tenant of the Jedi Code every day for the rest of her life, or she must end things, today, and transfer Felix off her ship. She tried not to think what that would do to his career. Another transfer, even with a glowing review from a Jedi could be the final blow.

“I can sense that, you know,” Felix said, interrupting her thoughts. “When you read me with the Force.”

The admission surprised V'ryss. “You said you weren’t Force sensitive,” she said quietly.

He shrugged. “I’m not. Got tested as a kid, all the refugee kids did. I think they thought being a Padawan would be a better life than being a refugee.”

“Let’s find a place for you to rest,” she said, changing the subject. Thinking of her own confused state, she added, “And I need to meditate.”

Felix said nothing as they slowly made their way down the hallway the healer showed them. The empty room they found was sparse, only a sleeping pallet. She watched as he took off his armor chest piece, leaving the undersuit on. Without his armored top, V'ryss could see the muscles in his back and even his abdomen through underneath the undersuit. Stars, she wanted to touch him.

She took a sharp intake of breath. How in the galaxy were Jedi supposed to ignore these base feelings, deny themselves a crucial part of life? Pushing those thoughts aside until she could meditate, she asked, “Are you comfortable? Would you like me to call Tharan down to take a look at you?”

Grabbing her hand, he said, his voice rough, “Don’t want Tharan here. Just you.” Felix raised his head and V'ryss felt his arm wrap around her waist, before bringing her down for a kiss.

His lips demanded and V'ryss responded, slipping her tongue into his mouth. She lost herself in the sensation of him until she realized he had worked his hand through the layers of her robes and stroked her breasts.

V'ryss pulled away at once, even though her body protested. They were there at the invitation of the Voss, in their scared Healing Temple. Going any further would be an insult to their hosts. “I need to meditate,” she said, hearing the passion in her voice.

“Whatever you saw really threw you, didn’t it?” Felix asked, sounding uncertain. She sensed his worry, his fear, all revolving around her. 

She hated to stress him, but she needed to figure things out now, before everything progressed of control, while she still had the choice to end their relationship. “It was neither good nor bad,” V'ryss said, kissing his nose to sooth him. “It simply was.”

“Spoken like a true Jedi,” he said with a snort, turning to his side. “Well, if you’re going to meditate, I might as well get some sleep.”

“Rest well,” V'ryss said with a soft smile. She stood up and went to the corner of the room, still close enough to Felix to hear his gentle breathing.

Kneeling, V'ryss closed her eyes and searched for the Force. Would committing herself to Felix make her less of a Jedi? Attachments were discouraged, but how could anyone expect to go through life without making meaningful connections with anyone?

She already had attachments, whether she liked it or not. Master Yuon, Master Bakarn, her companions, even Holiday. If she wouldn’t cleave them from her life, why should she send Felix away because of their attraction to each other?

Marriage was out of the question, but they could certainly affirm a private oath between them. V'ryss took several long, deep breaths. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. They hadn’t even slept together yet.

But a physical union was secondary at this point. What mattered was the emotional, almost spiritual connection that they shared. V'ryss simply couldn’t imagine not having that in her life.

The rest of her life would be dedicated to the Jedi Code and to helping others. Perhaps… V'ryss opened her eyes, her decision made.

She would be selfish in just one aspect of her life. Every part of her being would belong to others, except one. Her soul belonged to Felix.

Standing, V'ryss turned to watch him sleep, only to see him staring at her. “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you? About us?” he asked, holding his hand out uncertainly.

“Not anymore,” V'ryss answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. She took the offered hand and brought his palm to her lips. She let confidence flow through her and Felix relaxed at once.

“Good,” he said, tracing her jaw with his fingers. “You want to rest a bit, too? Sounds like we have a bit of a trek ahead of us.”

She nodded and lay down next to Felix, facing away from him as he rested his hand on her stomach. V’ryss closed her eyes, feeling a contentment she hadn’t sensed in some time. She would end the threat of the First Son, and she would do it with Felix by her side.

Her path was laid out before her and finally she had the courage to walk.


	15. Corso Riggs Romance - Taris

**Class** : Republic Smuggler

 **When** : Chapter I, Taris

* * *

 

“Gets you thinking, doesn’t it? Corso said, checking the seal on his armor before they started jogging through the wilds of Taris.

“What does?” Sohnet asked, pulling her hair back in a ponytail. Can’t say he blamed her. This humanity was worse than any of the summers he spent on Ord Mantel. With her hair up, Sohnet looked younger, and he had to purposefully look away so he wouldn’t be staring at the curve of her neck. All that green skin…

“The next of kin holofrequency, that the doctor spoke about,” Corso said. What a horrible way to die, away from your loved ones. He hoped the doctor worked on those letters. Dead people’s families deserved better.

Sohnet wrinkled her nose. “Not really something I like to think about, farmboy. I think I’ve got a document somewhere if anything happens to me. Just bury me in the ship and point it at the sun.”

“Really?” Corso asked. “You want to destroy your ship?”

“Stars, no,” Sohnet said with a laugh. “It’ll go to my brother. He’d bring me back to life just so he could kill me himself if I did anything to the ship.”

Corso perked up. In the month they’d been traveling together, she hadn’t mentioned any family. “You’ve got a brother?”

Nodding, Sohnet started walking, setting a brisk pace. Sometimes he wondered how someone so small could walk so damn fast. “Yep. Twin brother. He wants in on this whole scheme, and I wouldn’t mind an extra someone to watch my six. Got you, but doesn’t hurt to have another gun. Sohnar’s on his way to Taris as we speak.”

His cheeks reddened slightly at the notion she trusted him to keep her safe. He would never give her the chance to think otherwise. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

Sohnet knelt down in front of a pile of desh. She really did love to scavenge things. “Eh,” she said, shrugging her shoulder. “Just a warning, kid, he’s a bit of an ass. But he’s my brother, so I put up with it.”

Somehow Corso couldn’t imagine anyone related to the captain as an ass. He’d see for himself eventually. Taking a breath, Corso readied himself for the question he was about to ask. “Was wondering, actually, Captain, if I could use the ship as my permanent address.”

There. He asked the question and the galaxy was still spinning. Back on Ord Mantel, he used Vido’s office as an address, but with Vido currently space dust, it didn’t seem right. The Republic required that all citizens have some sort of address, even if it’s only a registry number of a ship. Her ship was the closest place he had to home right now.

Sohnet looked up at him then, a expression he couldn’t quite read on her face. “You plan on sticking around long enough to make it worth your while?” she said, putting out her hand so he could help her stand up.

“Definitely want to see this treasure business through. After that?” Corso rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the muscles tense. What was it about this woman? “If you’ll have me, Captain, I’d like to be here.”

He had nothing left on Ord Mantel. His mind flickered to Thora, his financee – ex-financee. He thought of the few supervised outings they had, before he asked if he could walk her home, ending in a kiss. At the time, Corso’s life stretched out before him in a straight line. He and Thora would wed, hopefully fall in love at some point, have a couple of kids and help out with the family farm.

Now?

Now he had no idea where he’d lay down his head to sleep at night. And he loved it. Loved every minute of it. Leaving Ord Mantel with the captain was the best decision he’d ever made. The entire galaxy opened up to him thanks to Skavak. Not that he would ever tell that yellow, scheming traitor.

“Far as I’m concerned, you’re part of my crew now,” Sohnet said, crossing her arms over her chest. She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Been a while since I ran with one, but I’ll remember how one of these days.”

Sohnet started walking again and he jogged to catch up. A warm feeling thread through his belly, and he remembered. _This is what it feels like to belong._ Been a while, but like the captain, he’d figure it out one of these days.

“So, Captain, got any other family?” he asked. Amazing how the sting had gone out of that word. _Family._ There was a time not too long ago when Corso couldn’t even say the word without clenching his fists and wanting something to shoot.

“You’re awfully curious, Farmboy,” Sohnet said, a smile in her voice. “Believe it or not, I’ve got a younger sister who’s a Jedi.”

Corso stopped in his tracks. “Wait, really? A real live Jedi?” he asked.

Sohnet nodded. “At least I assume she’s still a Jedi. Sohnna. Jedi took her away when she was eight. I’ve only seen her once since, actually. She takes the whole detachment thing seriously.”

“But a Jedi, that’s amazing,” Corso said, remembering when he was a kid, long before he joined the Peace Brigade, wishing he could use the Force. He’d picture himself with a light saber, wearing one of those long cloaks Jedi always seemed to wear, protecting the Republic.

“I’d rather have my sister,” Sohnet said with a shrug. “But you can’t have everything.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Corso said absently, thinking of his own family. But look at him now. He has a home, someone to look up to, and treasure to dream about. All in all, it’s not a bad life he’s made for himself.

Sohnet stretched her arms over her head, her shirt riding up slightly as she did, revealing a patch of dark green skin. Wanting to ever be the gentleman, Corso forced himself to look away. “Looks like we made it to the power generator,” she said quietly.

Then the familiar hum of her stealth generator kicked in, and Corso took out his blaster, and tried to concentrate on the upcoming fight, instead of wondering if those tattoos of hers went all the way down.


	16. Felix Iresso Romance - Corellia

V’ryss directed her question to the lieutenant in charge of the the small base. No matter where she and Felix tried to hide for some rest, Corellia was at war. “How safe is this position?”

“Safe enough if you’d like to catch a couple hours of sleep, Master Jedi,” the lieutenant answered at once.

She sighed inwardly. If her weariness could be seen by even a Republic soldier, she must look worse than she thought. Next to her, Felix’s shoulders hunched. She knew he desperately needed rest and most likely food. “Do you have any rations to share?” V'ryss asked, finally hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “I have nothing to exchange at the moment, but perhaps-“

A young Cathar ensign pushed a number of ration bars into her hands. “We need nothing, Master Jedi. There are rooms upstairs with cots if you’d like some privacy.”

“Thank you,” V'ryss said, her eyes traveling to the nearby stairs. She looked at Felix. “Will you be able to make it upstairs?”

He nodded and together they made their way up the stairs. They found an empty room with a wide cot and a basin for washing. For decorum’s sake, V'ryss knew they should sleep in different rooms tonight, yet the thought of being parted from him again…

“Stay,” Felix said, closing the door behind them. His voice was rough and V'ryss felt herself responding. “Please.”

“Of course,” V'ryss said. She stood before him and gently took off his armored gloves. “Did you have anything to eat in the escape pod?”

“Couple of ration bars and some water,” Felix said, unlatching the seals of his chest piece. “Honestly, I’d like to wash up first. Been in this armor for thirty-six hours now.”

Instead of answering, V'ryss walked over to the basin, while Felix continued to remove his armor. Once only in his undersuit, she watched his entire body deflate. Rolling his shoulders, he said, “Feels good to get that off.”

“I can imagine,” V'ryss said as she shed her outer robe and folded it neatly on a nearby chair. She couldn’t imagine wearing Kevlar every day to fight, though Felix made it look effortless, moving with an easy grace.

She carefully dipped the wash cloth into the basin. The water was temperate, possibly refilled recently. It would do. Pressure started building in her core as he stepped into her personal space, taking off his undersuit top. V'ryss let herself indulge, taking in his broad shoulders, tapering down to his waist.

“You know how bad I want to hold you right now?” Felix said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Taking the tip of her finger, V'ryss lazily traced the tattoo on his shoulder. This was still so new, this sense of wanting, how there were times all she had to do was look at Felix and feel desperate for his touch. “Let’s get you cleaned up first,” V'ryss said, giving him a smile that only he would ever see.

Felix closed his eyes as V’ryss washed his back, letting her palms linger over his tattoos and over scars and over hard muscles. Once done, she turned him around and washed his chest, curling her fingers in his chest hair and into the coarser hair on his stomach.

He pulled down his undersuit leggings and stood naked in front of her. V’ryss bit her lip and drank him in, her gaze settling between his legs. Looking down, he shrugged. “Too tired, I guess,” he said with a chuckle. “Give me a few hours sleep. And, well, I’ll be able to show you just how glad I am to see you again.”

V’ryss lowered herself to her knees, so she could wash his lower half. “You had me so worried,” she said, trying not to remember the utter panic she felt as she realized he wouldn’t be able to make it off the _Javelin._

“I know. And I’m sorry about that,” Felix said softly. “But I would do it again.”

Nodding, V’ryss held out her hand so he could help her off of the floor. He was a solider, she was a Jedi. Their duty to the Republic would always need to come first. But knowing that simple truth was so much more difficult than living it. And somehow, she doubted it would ever become easier with time.

“I meant it, what I said on the ship. There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I want to tell you,” he said. Felix pulled her towards her, turning her, so her back was flush with his chest. They were close enough she cursed the thin tank top she wore, keeping them from being skin on skin.

“And I want to hear every word,” V’ryss said, biting her lip as one of his hands cupped her breast and the other slid down her belly, into the waistband of her trousers. His fingers traced patterns into the hair between her legs, but went no further.

As she felt his lips against her neck, she also sensed his absolute exhaustion. An exhaustion she shared. Even though the throbbing between her legs protested, V’ryss stepped out of Felix’s embrace. She turned, placing her hand on his cheek. “Why don’t we start the conversation after we get some sleep?” she asked.

Felix took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Might need more than one conversation to get the point across,” he said with a sly grin.

“Good thing I’m a diplomat,” V’ryss said, leading him to the cot. As they settled onto the thin mattress, V’ryss rested her head on Felix’s shoulder. “I’m excellent at _talking._ _”_

“You always seem to know just what to say, too,” he said with a laugh that felt like a balm on her tired soul.

She closed her eyes, and only a few minutes passed before she heard the comforting sounds of Felix’s snores.


	17. Vector Hyllus Romance - Alderaan during kotfe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Chapter nine of KotFE. Spoilers for the first nine chapters of the expansion.

**Who:** Imperial Agent

 **When:** After Chapter Nine of  __kotfe

* * *

 

They should have never brought her to Alderaan.

From the moment Lana released her from carbonite, Frae’s played their games, said exactly what they wanted to hear. Let them think she trusted them. As if she could ever trust anyone from the SIS or Sith Intelligence. No, there is only one person in this galaxy she trusts. And if her handlers don’t realize there’s nothing she isn’t willing to do to find him, that’s their problem.

The tingle from her stealth device feels like home: cold shadows with the ever present fear that someone can slip through the defenses. She watches silently as Choza Raabat looks around in confusion. The generator is destroyed, but they were to walk back to the outpost together, Jedi and Imperial, a testament to cooperation.

Raabat looks in her direction and Frae doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even try to breath as the Jedi closes his eyes, most likely searching for her using the Force. Someday, she’ll invent a stealth device that can fool even the Force, but today is not that day.

So without a single glance behind her, Frae turns on her heels and runs.

#

 _You_ _’re being exceedingly foolish. More foolish than I could have thought possible._

“Save it for someone who cares,” Frae mutters, wiping the sweat from her brow. She just needs to make it to House Cortess. Allies will be there, people who can protect her. And maybe…

Frae pushes the thought away. Vector hasn’t answered any single one of her messages. He’s out there, she’s sure of it. If it’s the last thing she does, she’ll find him.

 _My children are a threat to the entire galaxy_ _…_

She lets out a bitter laugh, then. “Do you really think I care about this galaxy, old man? What has this galaxy ever done to prove it’s worth saving?”

Her breath is quick and shallow and Frae’s not even sure how many miles she’s run, trying to get away from the Alliance. The Alliance. As if giving themselves a fancy name means that they’re doing is righteous. Why should she care who controls the galaxy? How is Arcann a worse leader than the Dark Council or Chancellor Saresh? No one seems to be able to answer that question.

At least Arcann’s never tried to control her. Not like Sith Intelligence who made her into a puppet and handed the SIS the strings. It’s a point in Arcann’s favor, actually.

A cramp starts to form at her side, and Frae winces, knowing she sorely needs water. Her throat is already parched, and no doubt her skin is dry from the heat. Surely the Alliance is looking for her by now. Her only hope is to make it House Cortess before they do. 

Reaching the top of the path, Frae allows herself a small smile. There’s the Cortess manor. Nests have overtaken the grounds and there are Killiks and Joiners playing and working together. And one of them is bound to know where Vector hides.

The walk to the nests take forever and a day. The cramp still lingers and she’s so _tired._ But every walk ends, and she finds herself face to face with a Joiner, an old woman, maybe seventy years old. The woman looks at her with interest. Tilting her head, in the very same way Vector did, she says, “We know your face.”

“Yes,” Frae whispers. “The Dawn Herald of Oroboro. Do you know him?”

“We mourned you.”

Frae needs to close her eyes at the pain in the woman’s voice. “Yes,” she says. Because of course Vector mourned. At least he had the nest. At least he wasn’t alone. Not like her. Alone and not in control of her own fate. The story of her life. “Is the Dawn Herald on Alderaan.”

“No,” the woman says. “More and more, the Dawn Herald shuts himself away from the nest. We worry.”

“Someone must know where he is,” Frae says. “Please, I must find him.”

The woman looks away and Frae needs to fight back tears. But then an idea forms. One so wonderful she almost wants to laugh. Years ago, it wouldn’t have made sense, but now. Now it does.

_The fact that you are even contemplating this shows me just how weak you are._

The nest could protect her. Keep anyone from trying to control her. Save her from living in a cage. And someday, her mind would touch Vector’s. Decision made, Frae tells the woman, “I would like to become a Joiner.”

“The Dawn Herald would not approve,” the woman says. “You know this. He told you.”

“That was then,” Frae says, pleading. “This is now. I can’t let anyone else control me.” Aged hands take hers and Frae feels her chest constrict, wondering if the transformation will hurt, wonder what memories will still be hers. “I’m ready.”

“The Joining is a gift,” the woman says, her voice patient. “We will not Join you.”

“ _Please,_ ” Frae begs. “I need to find him.”

The woman’s eyes close. “We are already searching. Eventually, the Dawn Herald will be found.” Her eyes open and Frae is hit with such a wave of longing for Vector she almost feels ill. “Do not hide away. We know that is your first instinct. But the more people who know you are back, the higher chance the Dawn Herald will be discovered.”

“Of course,” Frae says, plans already running through her head.

It’s time for her to come out of the shadows, to step into the light and let her face be known. And by leading the Alliance, she’s been given the perfect opportunity to do just that. She will make sure that every corner of the galaxy knows her name and Vector will be able to find her easily.

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing the woman’s hands. “Thank you so much.”

Frae turns, feeling lighter than ever since she awoke on Zakuul. Heading towards the space port, she takes out her holocommunicator to contact Lana.

She has an empire to topple.


	18. Andronikos Revel Romance - The Fury II

**Class:** Sith Inquisitor

 **When:** Chapter Two, post Quesh

* * *

 

Revel took a breath before entering her chambers. Probably a stupid, stupid idea to check on her, but he couldn’t get the look of anguish on Denravi’s face out of his head. He couldn’t offer much in terms of comfort, but whatever he could, she could have. He did know what it’s like to lose crew. More times than he cared to admit.

Her light armor was piled in the corner, which in itself was strange. Denravi normally took special care with her armor, taking time to carefully remove each piece, even when Revel simply wanted to rip it off of her.

She wore a simple sleeveless white tunic and a long, flowing white skirt. He had to admit, against the darkness of her skin, the look was breathtaking. He’d never seen this outfit before. “What’s with the getup?” he asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Mourning colors,” Denravi said, sitting down at the edge of her bed. She slid her palms from the top of her thighs to her knees. “I know it’s stupid, I barely even knew Kaal or Corrin. But I had to do something.”

“Yeah, it’s called revenge, Sith,” Revel said, his hands tightening into fists. “Thanaton took something of yours. Now you need to take something of his.”

“And then who will he go after next?” Denravi said quickly. She shook her head. “No, I have to be smarter, protect what is mine.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, running her fingers through her hair. “I am Sith. There are ways.”

“He kills two of your apprentices and that’s your answer?” Revel asked with a scoff. “Protect what is yours?”

She looked up, her eyes flashing with anger. Revel nodded in approval. Anything was better than the look of hopelessness on her face when they stepped into the room and saw the bodies. Anger they could work with. Anger got results. She needed more, though. Luckily, Revel which buttons to press.

“Thanaton is already a step ahead of you,” Revel said, his voice goading. “What are you going to do about it?”

Standing up, Denravi started to pace across the room, wringing her hands. Revel felt a slight moment of guilt, knowing that she trusted him enough to show this weakness. He’d really have to cut his losses one of these days. They were getting too close for comfort. Next, he’d want to hold her after they fucked and that only would end in ruin.

“We’re going to find another ghost and I’ll take its power for my own,” Denravi said, her voice sharp as steel.

Still not good enough. “You can barely control three ghosts,” Revel sneered, pushing away the thought that what he said might actually be true. He’s heard her talk in her sleep a few times now. Scary shit sometimes. “You think you can handle a fourth?”

Her eyes lit up with a purple glow as she reached for a book on her nightstand, her fingertips cackling with energy. “Do not press your luck simply because I enjoy your company, pirate.”

She was almost there. If he played his cards right, what he said next might actually kill him. “Bet Zash wouldn’t have let them die.”

“Get out!” Denravi screamed, throwing the book at his head. Luckily, those couple of years he spent with Casey dodging heavy objects came in handy. Revel easily moved out of the way and the book hit the wall with a thud.

Lightning surrounded her closed fists and Revel braced himself. Once during a training session, he caught the tail end of a lightning ball. He would prefer never to go through that experience again. But if it helped Denravi out of mourning and ready to take revenge, he would gladly take the hit.

But then Denravi’s face crumpled, the energy draining from her hands as she slid to the floor. Revel froze, having no idea what to do as she brought her knees to her chest and started silently sobbing, if you could even call it sobbing when no tears rolled down her cheeks. _Shit._

This was it. This was the moment he needed to run. Andronikos Revel didn’t need any fucking complications in his life and the Sith in front of him was complications personified.   She probably would even understand.

_run you bastard run_

He could be on Nar Shaddaa in three hours. Thanks to the credits he earned since leaving Tatooine, he might have enough for a small ship. Work his way back up to the top. Become a real pirate again. Sleep with whoever the fuck he wanted.

_Run_

Before he even realized what had happened, Revel found himself sitting on the floor next to Denravi, his hand on her back, rubbing small circles as she continued to cry. This wasn’t just about the apprentices, even he could tell that. Suppose she never really had time to deal with the fact that her master tried to kill her and Thanaton made her an outcast.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You don’t got much of a choice, Sith,” Revel said. No point in offering empty comforts. She doesn’t defeat Thanaton and she’s dead. They’re all probably dead.

She took a breath and sat up straight. “You’re right, of course,” Denravi said. There were no sign of tears, of any hopefullness on her face. All he saw was resolve. And when she spoke again, the certainity in her voice sent a chill through Revel’s blood. “I’m going to kill him.”

 _That_ _’s my girl_ , he thought, hating the words as they seered his brain. She shouldn’t be his _anything._ But Revel isn’t one to dwell on things. Instead of trying to work out what those thoughts meant, he kissed Denravi as hard as he could, and she responded in kind.

After all, he could always run tomorrow.


	19. Andronikos Revel Romance - Voss

**Class:** Sith Inquisitor

 **When:** Chapter III, Voss

#

He doesn’t even care that the Voss are watching them and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Sith,” he whispers.

She cradles his face with her hands, and he thinks of the thin, silver band she now wears around her fourth finger. Hell of a honeymoon they found themselves on. “I’ll be alright,” she says, her voice cracking softly. “But if I’m not, if this ritual does something to me…”

Revel swallows and nods. He can promise her this. “It’ll be a nice, clean shot to the head, Sith. You won’t even know,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. This better not be the last damn time he gets to hold her. “Quick and painless.”

Denravi closes her eyes, whether in relief or fear of the ritual, he’s not sure, and then kisses him hard on the lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when you come back to me,” Revel says, taking a step back, his arms already feeling empty.

“You may enter as well,” the mind-healer says.

“He can?” Denravi asks, hope in her voice. Then to him, privately, “Will you?”

Revel nods. No way he’s being left behind if given the choice. The mind-healers hands Denravi the seed and together they walk towards the prye. She sets the seed on fire and they kneel. The smell is sticky and coy and Revel wants to itch his nose but he says put and takes a deep breath.

When he opens his eyes again, the world is bathed in gold. They’re in the dream.

The first person they see is that Sith from Alderaan, the one Denravi slept with while Revel sat in a Cantina, drinking. He might have told her he found himself company, but they were still figuring each other out then. Didn’t want her thinking she could brush him aside so easily.

She looks shaken after Urtel disappears and Revel wonders if that’s how it went down. If the Sith really said he loved her after just one fuck. He decides not to ask.

Next they run into Nomar Organa. He wants to clock the bastard when he calls Denravi useless. And he could rip Zash’s face off for the way she taunts his wife. If these are Denravi’s fractured dreams… Surely there has to be some good, somewhere?

And before Revel can blink, he’s kicked out of the ritual. He wakes up with a start and looks at Denravi, who’s still meditating. The world loses the golden edge as everything comes back into focus. He stands, though slightly unsteady and rests his hands on his blasters, remembering his promise.

“How long’s this supposed to take?” Revel asks the mind-healer.

“She must follow the dream,” the Voss says.

Damn Voss, always speaking in riddles. He wants to argue, but knows he won’t get any sort of an answer. So he waits.

Revel has always been an impatient man. It worked well in his Republic days, always chasing after the next big promotion. Worked even better as a pirate. He could decide which bounties to go after, or which ships to raid before other captains read over a manifest.

But being married to a Sith is an exercise in patience. Especially this Sith.

He searches her face, looking for some sort of sign, and wonder what she’s dreaming about.

Time passes.

He kneels next to her, almost ready to check for a pulse, she’s breathing so slowly. “Dammit, Sith,” he mutters, wondering how many more times he would have to watch her almost die. “Wake up.”

And then she does. It’s so sudden, like a flash of light, that it almost knocks him back onto his heels. Almost.

“Pirate,” she says, her voice breathless.

He helps her off of the floor, and takes a breath. “You still with me?” he asks.

She nods as she wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “They all want to take me over,” she says, her voice pained. “Why did I do this?”

If he’s not one for patience, he’s really not one for regret. No point looking back and thinking of would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. “Because you need to take Thanaton down, remember?”

“You’re right,” she says. “Let’s talk to the mind-healer.”

She leaves his arms and starts to walk out of the cavern.

“Sith,” he says, before he starts to follow.

“Yes, pirate?” she asks, looking back at him from over her shoulder.

“I’m glad I didn’t need to kill you,” he says, ignoring how his voice breaks only slightly.

She smiles at that. “Me, too.”


	20. Doc Romance - Forged Alliances

**Class:** Jedi Knight

 **When:** Forged Alliances

* * *

 

“And this is Doc, my ship’s medic.”

Penilyn watches Archie shake hands with both Theron and Colonel Darok. Once the introductions are made, the Colonel starts outlying the plan. An invasion of Korriban.

The thought doesn’t sit right with her, especially since it’s the military and SIS planning the operation. Any retaliation will be against Tython, she’s sure of it. The Jedi Council deserves to be involved in any decisions.

But Penilyn doesn’t sit on the Jedi Council. She’s a servant of the Republic and will do what they ask.

Doc is quiet as they leave the conference room, which is unusual for him. She’s grown used to his quips and observations and not to hear them leaves her feeling strangely empty.

Once they get to the _Defender_ , he heads to their quarters, instead of the medical bay. She reaches out, using the Force, and senses his unease. Well, it will have to wait, because there’s a flight check to be done.

When the ship makes it out of the station’s space, Penilyn excuses herself from the bridge and walks to their quarters. The room is dark when she walks inside, “Archie?” she asks quietly. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure. Everything’s peachy,” he says flippantly. “Perfectly fine. Never been better.”

He’s lying on the bed, so Penilyn walks over and sits down next to him. “You know I don’t buy that, right?” she says, taking his hand, grateful he doesn’t pull it away when he’s in such a mood.

“That SIS agent,” Doc says finally, moving so he was on his side, looking up at her. “He flirted with you right in front of me and you didn’t do anything.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Penilyn says, anger building in her stomach. “You’re mad because someone flirted with me?”

Doc flops back down on his back. “Be fair now, that’s not what I said. Everyone in the galaxy should be flirting with you, because you’re _you._ What I said is you didn’t do anything about it.”

Penilyn lets out an annoyed breath. “It’s not like I can say, ‘please back off, I’m married.’” His face falls and all at once she understands that’s exactly what he does want her to say. “Archie, you knew when we wed…”

“I know, gorgeous, I know,” Doc says, reaching up and placing his hand on her cheek. “Been harder than I can to admit, being someone’s dirty little secret.”

Her eyes close at the resigned feelings she senses from him. She’s not sure what to do. Even if the Jedi code didn’t forbid attachments like this, she would never be one to shout from the rooftops that she’s in love.

But perhaps there’s a more subtle option. Penilyn stands up and walks over to the dresser, feeling Doc’s eyes on her back. Opening the top drawer, she pulls out two rings, their wedding rings, plain platinum rings they’ve never actually worn.

Once she’s back at the bed, she holds out her hand, the rings resting on her palm. “Why don’t we actually start wearing these?” she asks softly, sitting down next to him. “People can assume whatever they like, then. We’ll know the truth.”

Doc pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I don’t want you getting in trouble with the Jedi Council,” he says, sounding as serious as she’s ever heard him.

“I won’t get in trouble for wearing jewelry,” Penilyn says. “And if it persuades away any would be suitors, so much the better.”

Penilyn lets herself relax as he pulls her against him, pressing their lips together. “How did I get to be such a lucky son of a bantha to have you in my life?” he whispers against her lips.

She kisses him again, this time a little more urgent, her tongue slipping between his lips. Funny how she thinks the exact same thing.

When they break apart, Penilyn takes his hand, sliding the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. “Archiban Kimble,” she says, smiling at the way he shudders at the sound of his full name, “do you promise to honor and cherish me above all others?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart,” he says, taking the other ring from her hand and slipping it on her finger. “And do you promise to honor and cherish ol’ Doc?”

“I do,” Penilyn says happily. This won’t solve all their problems. She’ll never be able to be as affectionate as he might like in public. But she can certainly start discouraging any potential interest better than she has in the past. “You may now kiss the bride.”

“Gladly,” Doc says, pulling her on top of him. Penilyn laughs brightly, but then stops thinking for a bit, ready to celebrate an impromptu wedding night.


	21. Aric Jorgan Romance - Voss

**Class** : Republic Trooper

 **When:** Chapter III, Voss

* * *

 

Jorgan really didn’t like Voss. **  
**

He didn’t like how cryptic the people were, with their belief in their Mystics, who believed they could see the future. He didn’t like the Vos-Ka, where the Imps were just waiting at the other end of the city.

And he really didn’t like knowing that the Senator was watching his and Wynneth’s every move through their armor cams. Half a dozen times out in the field Jorgan had to check himself, keep from putting his hand on her shoulder or push hair that had gotten loose from her bun behind her ear.

Enough to drive a Cathar mad.

They were silent as they walked through the shadows of the valley, not wanting to give the Gromack in the area any sort of an easy target. Jorgan rolled his shoulders, trying to lose some of the tension he felt after that last fight.

Wynneth had taken a hit, dropping her to the ground. It wasn’t a serious blow, he knew that as soon as she jumped back into the fight. But the fear he felt seeing her go down didn’t rest easy on him.

This is why there were regs, he reminded himself, as he glanced over to her. He caught her eye and she gave him a shy little smile that went straight to his gut. _Fuck the regs_ , he thought, flexing his fingers to keep himself from reaching for her hand.

A loud roar of thunder rumbled over them, followed by a crack of lighting. “Oh that’s just great,” Jorgan muttered. A thunderstorm would be just what he needed.

“Want to risk going to the outpost or wait it out?” Wynneth asked as she picked up the pace.

“Let’s see if we can make the outpost,” Jorgan said, settling into a slow jog.

Two minutes later, when the rain started, he changed his mind. “Let’s find a cave,” he shouted over the thunder. Not much more he hated was getting his fur wet like this.

At least Voss had that going for it. The valley they were in was littered with caves and alcoves, places they could hide. Or be ambushed, the realist in him thought.

They found a cave easily enough, and once they were sure it was free from predators, took off their weapons. Wynneth leaned back against the wall and the cave and Jorgan didn’t think he could wait any longer, especially when her face was flush from running and rain dripped down her cheeks.

He leaned in for a kiss, but stopped short the second he felt Wynneth’s hands pushing him away. Before he could ask what was wrong, she reached up and turned off his armor cam.

“Senator,” Wynneth said, “we’re taking a breather. Cameras will be on again once we’re back in the field.”

_That’s highly inappropriate, Major, these cameras are to be on at all-_

With far too much satisfaction, Jorgan turned off Wynneth’s camera. “Might get in trouble for this,” he said, leaning against her.

“You care?” she asked as she pressed her lips against his own.

Jorgan didn’t bother to answer.


	22. Aric Jorgan Romance - The Thunderclap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time Jorgan kisses Wynneth is shown in the game (that’s my canon). So here’s the first time Wynneth kissed Jorgan.

**Class:** Republic Trooper

 **When:**  Chapter III, post Belsavis

* * *

 

Now, more than ever, did Wynneth appreciate the stars. She leaned back in her seat on the bridge, bringing her feet up to rest on the console, something she would never dare to do while on duty. But she currently wore casual clothes with her hair hanging down her back in a braid. So she indulged, watching the stars fly past as they made their way to Belsavis.

Wetting her lips, Wynneth tried to remember just how warm Jorgan’s had been against her own. His weren’t quite like human lips, thinner and not as soft, but oh did she want to feel them against her skin again.

But she had to wait. As much as she wanted to rush into things now that they started down whatever road they were on, she had to be patient. She was the commanding officer here. It would be her responsibility to make sure that Jorgan didn’t feel any pressure coming from her.

And then there was consent to deal with. Wynneth rubbed her eyes, thinking of rules and regulations they broke today just with one kiss. She knew the rules were there for a reason, so if they decided to keep breaking them (oh she hoped they did) she’d have to do what she could to protect them both.

Behind her, light steps could be heard coming up the stairs and she smiled, recognizing Jorgan’s gait, heavier than Dorne’s and Yuun’s but lighter than Vik’s. She turned her head to the side slightly, enough so that Jorgan would know that she wouldn’t be caught unawares at his approach.

A moment later, Wynneth felt feather light fingers on her neck. Without thinking, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. It had been so long, so long, since she had been touched outside of battle.

Looking up, she watched Jorgan walk past her and lean against the console she currently had her feet up on. He was out of uniform, like her, wearing what looked like workout clothes. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey yourself,” Wynneth said just as softly.

Her skirt covered up most of her legs, the way she sat, but Jorgan found some uncovered skin. Almost casually, he wrapped his fingers around her ankle. Wynneth bit her lip, trying not to seem to pleased at the gesture. But before she could say anything, Jorgan snatched his hand away and looked down at the ground. “I should have asked first,” Jorgan said haltingly. He put his hands behind his head and took a breath. “Look, what happened in the weapons locker-“

Wynneth felt her heart drop into her stomach. This was it. Now he would say he hadn’t meant to kiss her, she had goaded him into the kiss, and maybe it would be best not to talk off-duty any more. She prepared herself for the worst and tried to think of every possible answer at once.

“I could have probably handled that better,” he said quietly. “I should have asked first, I had planned on asking first… That’s what they teach us in basic, right, about consent-”

“You don’t regret kissing me?” Wynneth asked, interrupting, feeling the weight coming off her shoulders and like she could actually breathe again.

Jorgan looked surprised at her words. “Regret kissing… Stars, not for a moment.”

Her feet were off the console and onto the floor in and instant. Without hesitating for a moment, Wynneth stood up and pressed herself against him, kissing Jorgan eagerly, hungrily, even. She felt his palms on her waist as she slipped her tongue between his lips. His tongue wasn’t quite what she expected. A little rougher, a slightly different shape, but it still felt _amazing_ against her own.

When the kiss ended, neither one of them moved away, and Wynneth kept her eyes closed, enjoying the way each breath he took was a caress against her skin. “You said this afternoon we should talk again, soon, right?” she said, keeping her voice low.

Jorgan chuckled. “I did, didn’t I?”

“So let’s keep talking.” Jorgan kissed her again while Wynneth wrapped her arms around his neck as they did just that, not a word spoken between them.


	23. Akaavi Spar Romance - Shadow of Revan

**Who:** male Republic Smuggler

 **When:** post Shadow of Revan

* * *

 

This cantina on Coruscant is unfamiliar to Akaavi. A quick glance around and she memorizes the exits and looks for anyone suspicious. There’s a Togruta in one corner she’ll keep her eye on, but no other concerns.

Unless she decides to count her husband as one.

Akaavi rarely enjoys cantinas, hating the smoky air and all the noise, but Sohnar thrives on them. And since there is no place to hunt on Coruscant, she let him talk her into joining him tonight. Of course, his method of persuasion is a most enjoyable one.

The man has a _very_ talented tongue, in more ways than one.

Sohnar’s back is turned as she walks towards him. Not to her surprise, there are several young women surrounding him, no doubt hanging on his every word as he tells yet another exaggerated tale.

A few year ago, this would have confused her, maybe even upset her. Now? Akaavi is simply amused and wonders which one of them might have caught his eye for a night of pleasure several years ago.

Tonight, her bet is on a Nautolan with copper rings adorning her lekku. She’s clearly paying him the most attention, pushing a shot glass towards him, letting her hand linger on his forearm.

“You really saved all those people on Quesh?” she asks, the innocence in her voice to contrived to be real.

Akaavi rolls her eyes as he starts his story. The last time she heard this one, they landed under heavy fire and fought off a platoon of Imperials. The truth isn’t nearly as exciting as the story he lays out before the women.

She’s never understood why he tells such tales. Akaavi has always preferred the truth. But perhaps because she once was a Mandalorian. And Mandalorians do not lie.

Once the story is over and the women all _ooh_ and _aah_ in the right place, the Nautolan whispers something in Sohnar’s ear. Akaavi breaths deeply through her nose, glancing over at the Togruta to distract herself - he has not moved, so she decides he is no threat - while waiting for her husband to react.

He takes a step back from the woman and Akaavi is almost tempted to smile. “Oh you don’t want me,” Sohnar says, patting his stomach. “I’m just an old married man with a few stories to tell.”

The word _married_ changes the group. One woman stalks off without another word. Two women start a conversation without him. And the Nautolan takes back the shot she offered earlier before throwing it back herself and walking away.

“If I remember right, we used stealth to make it through all those soldiers,” Akaavi says. Sohnar turns, his eyes wide and a chagrined look on his face. “And since neither of us have any tech skills to speak of, you simply shot the console.”

“You were behind me this entire time, weren’t you?”

“The entire time,” Akaavi says, feeling the urge to smile yet again. It is strange, having so much happiness wrapped up in one person. The men she knew before him never made her want to smile. Perhaps it is just as well she married the one man who did.

“So,” Sohnar says, taking a step closer so there is almost no room between them, “come here often?”

A bark of a laugh escapes her lips as she pushes him away with one hand and signals the barkeep with the other. Clearly not deterred, Sohnar slides his hand around her waist to rest on her hip.

Akaavi stills, feeling _udesiir_ wash over her, even with the crowd and the noise around them. Tomorrow they leave to meet Darth Marr on his flag ship. She hopes it will not take long, so she and her husband could have a few more nights like this one.


	24. Lana Romance - Odessen

**Class:** female Jedi Knight

**When:**  Chapter 12,  _Knights of the Fallen Empire_

* * *

 

Lana stood in front of the holocom, hands clasped behind her back, calm in the center of the store. At least, that was the illusion she hoped to project to the war room. The truth was far more complicated.

_Where was Maebry?_

“Kaliyo, we cannot wait any longer for the commander. You may now start infiltration,” Lana said.

_I’ll keep you updated_ , Kaliyo said as she stood up from a kneeling position. _About time you let me work._

From the other terminal, Jorgan scowled. _I can’t believe you’re letting her do this._

“Major, the commander asked Havoc to be a distraction,” Lana said, refusing to give in to her anger and fear. Those emotions do not control her. They never have, and they never will. They are hers to master. “I suggest you start.”

_Understood,_ Jorgan said. _Havoc out._

The comm station shut down, leaving the war room strangely quiet. Lana had a million things she needed doing, but all she wanted was to tear into the Odessen Wilderness and find her love.

“Lana…” Koth’s voice was gentle, almost too gentle, like how one might approach a wounded animal. Part of Lana wanted to lash out at any attempt of comfort.

“I’m going to meditate,” Lana announced, ignoring the looks from the rest of the room. Theron’s pity and Senya’s anger and Koth’s strange mixture of scorn and comfort. “We have time before Kaliyo will make it to the transmitter. I suggest we all get some rest.”

She turned with every intention to march out of the war room to head into the hangar bay, but Theron placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know I don’t need to tell you this, but don’t go out into the Wilderness.”

A lesser man would have withered under the gaze she cast upon him. But to Theron’s credit, he simply looked back at her, concern in his eyes. She thought to answer, to lash out with some sort of scathing retort, something that would make her feel better, if only for an instant.

Instead, the steady beat of worry that had been cascading through Lana’s head since she discovered Maebry’s disappearance grew louder and louder and threatened to drown everything out. She had nothing to offer Theron, not when he had taken it upon himself to try to comfort _her._

So without a backwards glance, Lana walked out of the war room.

#

Thankfully, no one stopped her as she walked into the hangar bay. Lana headed straight to the elevator which would bring her to Maebry’s ship. As she waited for the doors to open, she refuse to look around, refused to make eye contact with anyone on the off chance they might need something from her.

The doors opened and Lana all but ran inside, pressing the button to close the door. Her heart raced, and she felt on the verge of panic. Why had she ever suggested that Maebry speak directly to Valkorian?

The fact that Maebry had chosen to use his powers once, even if it had been to save Lana’s life, worried her immensely. And now Lana had sent Maebry directly into the belly of the beast, only to have her disappear.

A light breeze could be felt as Lana stepped off the elevator. The clouds were a dusky red as the sun started its descent. On Korriban, clouds such as these were considered good luck. But Lana never believed in such superstitions. She believed in making her own luck, her own destiny. At least, she had until Maebry came into her life.

Behind Maebry’s ship, the _Defender,_ stood the mountains. Lana had all but fallen in love with these mountains the first time she stepped foot on Odessen. This view, with Maebry’s ship in front of the mountains, had become Lana’s favored meditation spot.

Lowering herself on the grass, Lana worked at keeping her breathing even. Her eyes closed and she focused on the Force. More and more lately, she found her mind lingering on the light side of the Force. Maebry’s influence, no doubt.

She reached out, asking the Force to guide her. Not demanding, but requesting. She focused on Maebry, on the bond they shared, both physically and emotionally, and waited for some sort of response.

Time passed. And Lana kept searching.

When she opened her eyes again, the red clouds had given way to darkness and the stars above. Lana could barely make out the mountains. Maebry had now been missing for almost twenty-one hours.

But she was out there. Lana picked up the slightest trace, just enough to know that Maebry was alive. Relief rushed through her, and Lana sat cross-legged on the grass, her body stiff from meditating for who knew how long.

Theron estimated that it would take Kaliyo at least twenty-hours to make it to the bottom. Lana would be patient, she would wait until the mission was complete.

Once it was, and if Maebry wasn’t back in her arms, Lana would tear Odessen apart, mountains and all.  


	25. Aric Jorgan Romance - Coruscant

**Who:** Republic Trooper

**When:** Chapter Three, before Corellia

* * *

 

“Nice to have a meal off of the ship,” Aric says, leaning back in his chair.

Wynneth lets her gaze linger on him; it’s not often she’s seen him in anything other than armor, their service uniforms, or workout gear. Tonight he’s wearing a deep red tunic with a v-neck, giving her a wonderful view of his neck.

The restaurant is not quite full, giving plenty of cover for the conversation they’re about to have. Her stomach flutters a bit, nerves most likely. This is the first time they’ve had a date, so to speak, since becoming a couple. Thanks to their Senate Hearing being delayed, Wynneth made the decision not to leave for Corellia until the morning, giving the squad an impromptu night off.

While Aric suggested spending the time in bed, Wynneth had a different idea. Which led them to a restaurant in the middle of one of the nicer districts on Coruscant. The modern furnishings aren’t quite to her taste, but the glass of white wine in front of her most definitely is.

“We certainly don’t get a chance to dress up very much, do we?” Wynneth asks. She likes to think she looks good tonight, wearing a light green strapless dress with a embroidered shawl. She’s even wearing heels, making her every inch Aric’s height. Granted, said heels are killing her feet and she’s desperately longing for her ballet flats back in her closet, but it’s too nice of a night to worry about her feet.

Aric leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You look gorgeous, by the way. Have I mentioned that, yet?”

Wynneth smiles softly. She’s not used to compliments, but she’s determined to try to accept them gracefully. “You might have mentioned it earlier,” she says, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “But thank you.”

She wants to reach out and hold his hand, but the rational part of her brain reminds her that they’re in public. The last thing they need is to be recognized. The commander of Havoc Squad and it’s executive officer having dinner is one thing. The commander of Havoc Squad and it’s executive officer on a date is something completely different.

The server arrives at the table and they order their meals, a rare brawballo steak for Aric and noodles with vegetables and extra cheese for her. Once they are alone again, Wynneth crosses her legs and takes a deep centering breath.

“I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk a bit,” Wynneth says. “Off the ship.” Aric tenses up immediately and the desire to reach out to him is stronger than ever. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise.”

Aric all but deflates, running a hand over the top of his head. “Scared me there,” he says. “And for the record, I’m glad nothing’s wrong. You’d tell me, right?”

She nods. “Of course I would,” she says.

“Good,” Aric says. “I know we’ve not really talked about our pasts, but I had a relationship where she didn’t let me know anything was wrong until things were left too late. I don’t want that happening with us.”

He slides his hand over the table towards her and Wynneth decides to take a chance. No one will recognize her in this dress, when her hair is curled softly around her shoulders instead of its usual bun. She puts her hand on top of his, and she’s still amazed at just how _right_ it feels. The only aliens she had been with before him all had skin like hers, just in different colors. He’s the first with hide covered by a fine layer of fur, and she can admit that she loves it.

And more and more, she’s realizing that she loves him, too.

“Me, either,” she says, squeezing his hand. Wynneth would love to tell him how she feels, but there’s still that little worry in the back of her head, that she’s the superior officer, and she absolutely can’t put that sort of pressure on him. So she’ll wait, patiently, because the only other option is to give him up completely and as far as she’s concerned, that’s simply not an option at all.

“So don’t keep me in suspense,” Aric says. “What would you like to talk about?”

It’s now or never. “Sex,” Wynneth says.

Aric’s brow raises and he quickly looks around. “Here?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Wynneth doesn’t have many vices. She rarely drinks, doesn’t smoke or take drugs. She doesn’t gamble and always uses her turn signal on her speeder. Her one indulgence is fashion holozines, the type with page after page pretty clothes and articles full of sex and relationship advice. And one thing all of the zines agree on is that important sex talks should take place outside the bedroom.

Well, on the _Thunderclap,_ outside the bedroom means the galley or the common area or the workout room, all places where the rest of the squad could interrupt at anytime. While the rest of Havoc knows about their relationship, she didn’t relish the idea of any of them hearing things.

“Here,” Wynneth says more confidently than she feels. Already she wants to take back the word and let them enjoy the evening together. But this is something they have to talk about, sooner rather than later.

“Alright, then. Let’s talk sex,” Aric says. “Until they sit someone at the table next to us, at least.”

“Agreed,” Wynneth says, more grateful than ever she took the chance to hold his hand. It feels like a lifeline at the moment. She readies herself, and decides it’s now or never. “When we’re in bed, are you holding back at all?”

Aric blinks once, then twice, before taking a sip of his whiskey. “That’s not a question I expected,” he says, swirling the ice in his glass. Wynneth also very much notices how he’s no longer looking at her, but at that same glass. “Why would you think that?”

The truth is slightly embarrassing, but no more embarrassing than talking about their sex life in the middle of a classy restaurant. “Cathar porn.”

“You’ve watched-” Aric buries his face in his hands. Biting her lip, Wynneth places her hands back in her lap, hoping she’s not just ruined everything by admitting that. “There’s a lot of really bad porn with my people out there. Next time, let me know. We’ll watch the good stuff.”

“Sorry,” Wynneth says, sure her face must be bright red right now. “It’s not just that, though. It’s just a feeling I have, and maybe I’m being ridiculous, but I-”

Aric holds up his hand, which she’s grateful for. She tends to ramble when she’s nervous. “Winnie,” he says, and she delights in the name. He’s only recently started calling her that and it thrills her every time. “For the record, you’re right.”

“I am?” she asks. She places her hands back on the table and leans forward. “Why?”

His fingers drum on the table. “Cathar are stronger than humans, you know that,” he says, leaning in towards her. “You’re the only human I’ve ever been with, and I…” Aric runs a hand over his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m one of the stronger humans you’ll find, Aric,” Wynneth says. “I don’t hurt easily.”

She’s about to ask him not to hold back when the server walks up to their table. “Would either of you like another round?” they ask.

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

The words are said at the same time and Wynneth starts to laugh, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

As the server walks away, Aric holds out his hand again. “If you could tell,” he says, “does that mean what we’ve had wasn’t good enough?”

There’s a genuine worry on his face and Wynneth grasps his hand. “It’s absolutely good enough,” she says quickly. That’s not the impression she wants to give him at all. “Maybe I should put it this way. It’s been so good I’m getting greedy. I want _more.”_

He runs his thumb over the palm of her hand, making her shiver. “There’s still the whole ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ thing,” Aric says.

“I don’t mind a little pain,” Wynneth says honestly. She and pain are old friends, and after being in the army for so long, she’s used to pain. Mostly the bad type. She wouldn’t mind getting to know _good_ pain if Aric is involved. “I hate the thought of you not being able to let go all the way. I want _all_ of you, Aric.”

The conversation stalls as the server comes back with their drinks. Wynneth takes a sip of wine and lets it linger on her tongue. Aric ends up drinking half of his whiskey in one sips.

“You sure?” he asks, putting the glass back down on the table. Wynneth feels her breath catch in her throat. She tries to imagine Aric letting go, what that might be like. A familiar ache starts between her legs, and she presses her thighs together, hoping for a little relief. “I’d feel a lot better about this if we had a safe word.”

“Then let’s have a safe word,” Wynneth says at once, picturing him trailing his claws down her back. Suddenly the idea of talking about sex outside of the bed seems like a horrible one. They could be in her quarters right now, and instead, they’re in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Stupid holozines.

Aric shifts in his chair and nods. “How about ‘Ord Mantel?’”

“Where we met? I like it,” Wynneth says.

The server appears with their food. Both dishes smell delicious, and as much as Wynneth wants to test out their new understanding, the call of a meal that she doesn’t have to unwrap is too strong to ignore.

But she wants to make sure before she tucks into her food. “So we’re all good for next time?” she asks, slipping a foot out of her heels. She drags the top of her foot up his calf as slowly as she can. “I wonder how quickly we can make it back to the ship after we’re done?”

“You think after this conversation we’ll be able to make it all the way back to the ship?” Aric asks, picking up his knife and fork. “I noticed an alley with an alcove about fifty meters from the restaurant. Next time will be about five minutes after we finish eating.”

The scene flashes before her eyes, Wynneth’s dress hitched to her waist, one leg wrapped around Aric’s hip as he thrusts into her. “Eat quick,” she says, twirling a strand of noodles around her fork.

“Oh no,” Aric says, slowly bringing up his fork to his mouth. “We’re going to thoroughly enjoy this meal.” He smiles, an almost predatory smile that makes Wynneth press her thighs together. “And then dessert.”


	26. Mako Romance - The Mantis

“Are you fucking insane?”

Mako tilts her head, trying to side-eye her husband. Okay, well, he’s not actually her husband. Yet. They haven’t had any actual ceremony but she did slice their names into the Imperial and Republic registries which is close enough. “Well, yeah,” she says, pushing back some hair behind her ear. “But when have I ever let that stop me?”

“Good point,” Rett says, shaking his head. He lays down on the bed and Mako takes the opportunity to snuggle up next to him. For someone whose people are from an ice planet, he’s pretty damn warm. Just the way she likes it. “Hacking into Empire or Republic records are one thing, but the Ascendancy? The Chiss Ascendancy?”

She props herself up on her forearm and looks down at him. The first time they met, back on Hutta, she thought those red eyes of his were creepy. But now? Now they’re _his_ eyes. So they’re basically perfect. “Aren’t you just the least bit curious?” Mako asks.

It doesn’t make any sense. How doesn’t he want to know about his background? His family? Before they got together, Mako was so curious about her own situation she got people killed. She doesn’t like to think about those girls on Dromund Kaas with her face. Clones. Why did it have to be clones?

“Look, Mako, I get what you’re trying to do-”

He doesn’t. He really doesn’t. “What if we have babies some day? It’d be nice if one of us wasn’t born in a lab so they might have a family.”

Rett goes perfectly still and Mako clamps her hands over her mouth. She didn’t mean to bring up babies. She really didn’t. Not yet at least. Some day. Just not today. It’s possible, though. Babies between a human and a Chiss. And every day, she falls more in love with her hunter, and she really hopes they might be able to have a baby down the road.

And have a family.

“You want us to have babies?” he asks softly.

“Not right now,” Mako says far too quickly. “Like, we have plenty of time. Years. But maybe someday…”

Rett lets out a breath. “And because you want babies, you want to hack into the Chiss Ascendancy database and try to find my family.”

Okay, maybe he does get it.

“Exactly. So I just wanted to let you know, in case we start getting some nasty messages from the Chiss or something,” Mako says, pulling on the hem of his shirt. She doesn’t think they will, after all, she knows what she’s doing. But he is her husband. Best to keep him in the loop.

Just in case.

He nods and looks up at her with a grin. “Wanna practice?”

Mako wrinkles her brow. What sort of question is that? He knows what she can do “Um, I don’t think I need to practice my hacking skills. I’ll be okay. Thanks, though?”

Without any warning, Rett pulls her down on top of him. “I meant,” he says, cupping Mako’s ass, “wanna practice making babies?”

Oh. _Oh._

Mako pushes herself up, so she’s straddling his hips. Her heart is racing a million miles a minute. This is a thing. This is a thing that might actually happen someday. They would have a _family._

“Well, big guy,” she says, pulling her shirt up and off onto the floor. “They do say practice makes perfect.”


	27. Aric Jorgan Romance - Coruscant II

“I believe in you, Winnie.”

She grasps his hand, knowing they’re free from onlookers at the moment. “Thanks, Aric. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” he says. “You’re looking a little green.”

Wynneth nods, and tries not to think about all the people in the theatre who will listen to her give the commencement speech for this year’s Republic Officer Training Academy on Coruscant. She still didn’t know why the school choose her. She’s just a soldier with a good - scratch that, a _great -_ squad, but after General Rakton’s defeat, the school insisted.

Public speaking’s never been her thing. She’s personable enough with small groups of people or reporters. But a theatre full of people? She’s terrified. And in about five minutes, she’ll walk onto the platform, wearing a cap and gown like she did when she graduated officer training almost a decade ago, and give a speech full of platitudes.

“Okay, I’m wrong, I can’t do this,” Wynneth says, closing her eyes. She would rather be facing down the Sith Emperor solo than walk in front of that crowd. Even with classes - public speaking classes are provided by the Republic Army once you get promoted to major - she still is a bundle of nerves.

“You’re going to do great,” Aric says, squeezing her hand. “You were terrific last night when you practiced.”

She shakes her head. “That was just you and Forex,” she says, trying to keep her breathing under control.

“So give the speech to me and Forex when you’re out there,” Aric says, sounding like it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “Or you’ve heard the old standby. Picture them in their underwear.”

She chuckles in spite of her nerves, and is able to take an actual breath. “Better plan. I give the speech to you and picture _you_ in your underwear.”

Aric tilts his head, like he’s actually considering it. “If it gets you through the speech, I’ll take one for the team.”

Wynneth smiles and feels a bit of tension leaving her shoulders. She keeps her breathing even as an ensign walks up to them, causing them to drop hands. Already she misses his firm grip around her fingers.

“It’s almost time,” the ensign says.

Nodding, Wynneth gives Aric one last look as she fusses with the gown. “You’ve got this, Major,” Aric says.

“I’m ready,” Wynneth tells the ensign. She’s led to the side of the stage, just blocked by curtains and waits for her name to be called.

It’s call far too soon, and Wynneth walks out, keeping her chin up and shoulders back. After shaking an administrator’s hand, Wynneth stands behind the podium, a holocamera hovering just outside of her line of sight.

She tries not to think of all the people in the audience, so she thinks of Aric. And then she thinks of him naked. A smile crosses her lips, a smile the newsreport will be calling charming tomorrow, and takes a breath, ready to speak about finding the courage to do what’s right.


	28. Doc Romance: The Defender II

“You love me, right?”

Penilyn kept her eyes closed, choosing to focus on her mediation instead of Doc’s question. After more than an hour, though, her knees were starting to ache and she could tell her mind wanted any excuse to stop focusing on the Force. And Doc was a ready made distraction.

“What am I getting myself into if I say yes?” she asked, twisting her torso, then rolling her neck, trying to loosen up after an hour on the floor.

Doc walked into their bedroom, the door closing behind him. He offered his hand, but then with a smirk, said, “You know, you’re already on your knees…”

Penilyn swatted his hand away as she rolled her eyes. He spoke as if they didn’t have a lazy coupling this morning before starting their daily routines. “Keep that up and you’ll be sleeping in the crew bunk tonight,” she said, standing up pointedly without his help.

“And share with Rusk? No, thank you,” Doc said, shaking his head. “I had enough of him back before you let me start staying the night.”

“Noted,” Penilyn said, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what do you want?”

Doc looked wounded, though by now Penilyn knew that was part of the game. A game she happily played. “Who says I have to want something? May I just need some reassurance that the most amazing Jedi in the galaxy still loves me.”

Taking a step closer, Penilyn wrapped her arms around Doc’s neck. His hands found their way to her hips, and she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. “There,” she said after the kiss, “I still love you. Now what’s so pressing you needed to interrupt my meditation?”

“Give me some credit, sweetheart, I timed it so you were almost done,” Doc said with that grin of his that made it impossible for her to stay annoyed at him. “But I do have a favor to ask.”

“So ask,” Penilyn said, sitting down on the bed.

Doc followed her to the bed, sitting down next to her, his hand on her thigh. “Got a distress call from an old buddy of mine. Runs a clinic on Kindo III.” He took out a holopad from his back pocket and handed it to her. “They’ve been having some issues with gangsters.”

Penilyn looked over the message, then pulled up details about the planet, home to the Kitonak. “I suppose we can head over there,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Not like we have anything better to do right now.”

It was maddening, trying to pretend that everything was perfectly normal all while knowing somewhere out there, Revan plotted to destroy both the Republic and Empire. Someday, hopefully soon, Theron and Lana would contact her.

But until that day came, she needed something to do. And while protecting a small clinic might not be the most exciting of opportunities, to the people of Kindo III, it would mean everything.

“Not quite the enthusiasm I was looking for, but hey, I’ll take it,” Doc said. “Jofnar’s a good egg. Just the type you like helping.”

“I like helping everyone,” Penilyn said, furrowing her brow. “I don’t really have a type.”

“Exactly,” Doc said, practically beaming. “He’s a person. You like helping people who are persons. It’s a win-win.”

Letting out a laugh, Penilyn tapped him on the shoulder, managing to drop the holopad in her hand. As she started to bend over to pick it up, Doc stopped her, getting down to one knee on the floor.

“Worry not, ol’ Doc’s got this one,” he said, handing her the pad. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a sly grin. “Well, will you look at that. Now _I’m_ the one on my knees.”

Doc’s hands, those skilled hand of his, were unbuttoning her trousers almost at once. Penilyn flopped back on the bed, ready for a whole different sort of meditation.


	29. Kaliyo Romance: Odessen

“Are you fucking insane?”

Eldrient smiled slowly, putting a hand behind his head as he leaned back into the pillows. “Well, I am fucking you, so…”

Kaliyo simply rolled her eyes, which he found interesting. He expected a bit more of a reaction than that, a bit more of a show. She might really be upset with the idea.

“You’re fucking married to me, asshole,” Kaliyo said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. There was a part of him slightly amazed she kept the ring through all these years apart. His wife wasn’t one for sentimentality, so the fact that she held onto it instead of selling it for profit after his apparent death, meant something to them both.

“Look,” Eldrient said, sitting up. He moved to straddle her as she sat on the edge of the bed. Surprisingly, she relaxed into his embraced. “It’s a simple mission. We board the ship, insert Gemini Prime, and then we’ll be in control.”

She dug her fingers into his thigh, and Eldrient had to bite the inside of his cheek not to make any response. “Stupid plan. Won’t work.”

“It will work,” Eldrient protested.

“Whatever, you don’t want my opinion,” Kaliyo said, standing up. Eldrient tried to keep her fingers entwined with his, but she stepped away. “You just want me to sob and beg and say _come back to me, I can’t live without you._ ” She turned, and her cheeks were flushed. “Well guess what, fucker, I lived without you once, I can do it again.”

Kaliyo turned, as if to leave their bedroom, and Eldrient jumped up. This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. Thanks to his longer legs, he caught up with her just at the door. He pushed her against the wall and she made no move to escape.

“Kaliyo…” he said

“You know if something happens to you, I’m out of here, right?” she said, not meeting his eye. “I’m stealing whatever credits I can and getting the fuck off this planet.”

“I know,” Eldrient said, placing a hand on his cheek. He wouldn’t ever expect her to stay, not without him here. Honestly, he was a bit surprised that she stuck around this long. Being on Odessen part of a military operation was a far cry from their days cavorting around the galaxy on the _Phantom._

She grabbed his jacket, pulling him to her. Eldrient took advantage as they kissed, hard and hot, sliding his hands around to cup her ass, pressing against her as close as possible.

They broke apart, and Kaliyo looked away. “Just go, okay? Get this stupid mission over with.”

He wanted to reassure her, but he knew that would be the worst thing to do. “Keep the bed warm,” he said, kissing her lightly.

For the first time since he told her about the mission, she smiled. “Always is when I’m in it.”


	30. Malavai Quinn romance - The Fury II

 “This was never right,” Quinn muttered to himself as he looked over the holopad. He hadn’t touched this holopad since telling the lie that had brought the _Fury_ to the Transponder Station. Now that he examined his calculations in a fresh light, they were laughable. How in the world did he think the droids he had programmed would be enough to defeat his lord?

“What was that, Malavai?” Maevry asked, her voice lazy. She was curled up in bed, reading a holonovel of some sort, most likely from that ridiculous Jedi Knight series she favored. There was a sense of calm surrounding her, something Quinn wouldn’t expect considering he had tried to kill her only three days ago.

How he ached to hold her, to bury himself in her, to beg her forgiveness once again. But she had already forgiven him once, to ask for more would be selfish, would only be to assuage his sense of guilt. Quinn deserved none of that.

What he deserved was a real punishment of some sort, yet here he sat at his private workstation in their quarters. When they first came back to the ship from the Transponder Station, he had planned to move his items to the crew bunk. How could he even think of sleeping in their marital bed after what he had done? Maevry rightly denied his request, worried anything less than a unified front would undermine his command.

But it was _killing_ him. The idea that Maevry seemed to think he had done nothing wrong - a pawn between two warring Siths, she had told him - was agonizing. Quinn would never be able to make this discretion up to his lord and would spend the rest of his life trying, even if she didn’t agree.

Maevry sat up, leaning against the headboard of their bed, arms crossed over her slender frame. “Your self-flagulation is giving me a headache, Malavai,” she said, and to Quinn’s distress, she sounded like she meant it. How could he possibly keep those thoughts bottled up tight enough not to disturb her? “You clearly refuse to accept that I have forgiven you. You are my captain and my senior advisor. How do we move past this so we may focus on Corellia?”

 _We don’t_ , was what Quinn wanted to reply, but he knew that answer would be absolutely unacceptable. He let the holopad slip from his fingers, which clattered on the desk, and tried to think. Unbuttoning the top button of the collar of his uniform helped; he could use a bit more room to breathe.

She gave him a problem, trusting him to come up with a solution. He would not fail his lord. Not again. “I believe, my…” Since they wed several months ago, Quinn always called her _my love_ in private. The simplicity of changing one little word, from _my lord_ in public to _my love_ when it was just the two of them had thrilled him to no end. Now it felt like a privilege he no longer deserved. But perhaps she needed to hear the word more than he needed to deny himself the right. “My love,” he said and the word sounded almost comforting when said aloud, “I need time. That is all.”

“We arrive on Corellia tomorrow, we don’t _have_ time,” Maevry said and Quinn could hear the frustration in her voice. “Why can’t you…” She paused, then looked away. “Oh stars.”

She stared off into the corner long enough that Quinn started to worry. “Mae?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve been looking at this completely wrong,” Maevry said, throwing the covers up off of her body and getting out of bed. A half dozen steps later and she stood in front of him. “May I sit in your lap?”

The question surprised him, to say the least. She had never asked before, instead almost always sitting down on his lap whenever she felt like it. Quinn couldn’t say he ever minded that in the slightest.

He nodded and at once she slipped her arm around his shoulders as she sat down. There was nothing sexual about the move; Quinn could tell by the way she buried her face into his neck she was looking to be comforted. He might not deserve to be the one comforting her, but he was the one she turned to.

One hand gripped her hip while he gently placed the other on the back of her neck. She felt solid in her arms. Real.

“I owe you yet another apology, it seems,” Maevry said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You owe me nothing,” Quinn said, far more harsher than he intended.

At his words, she sat up straight, her eyes boring into his. “Will you let me speak before you go off and flog yourself again?”

He said nothing, unsure what to do. When he kept quiet, he made her unhappy. When he spoke, he made her unhappy. When they wed all those months ago, before Darth Baras’ betrayal, Quinn couldn’t imagine life being more perfect than it had been at that moment. All he wanted at the time, was to continue to work towards the good of the Empire and to make this woman happy.

How quickly the tides had turned on him.

She placed her hand against his cheek, running her thumb over his jaw line. “I think we’ve both been looking at this wrong,” Maevry said softly. “I’ve been only considering this from my own point of view. How does this affect me? That sort of thing. I’ve not stopped to think about you. About what you’ve gone through.”

Quinn started to speak, he wanted to tell her he didn’t matter, that they both were rightly focused on her. But then he stopped. Even three days after the incident, he still wasn’t even quite sure what had happened to him.

What he did know was that Darth Baras had violated his mind. The proud Imperial in Quinn wanted to brush it off. He served at his lord’s leisure, after all. That truth didn’t make it right or any less painful.

These thoughts unlocked something deep in Quinn’s chest. He had been so focused on what he had done, he hadn’t even considered that Baras had been the one to put him in that position. Baras had been the one to take advantage and somehow used the Force to convince Quinn to make an attempt on Maevry’s life.

“You are, by far, more important,” he said without thinking. She was the future of the Empire. He was simply one of many Imperial captains. The comparison wasn’t even in question.

Maevry turned her face as if she had been struck. Digging her fingers into his shoulder, she said, “That’s not true,” she said, sounding almost lost. Quinn closed his eyes. Would they ever find a sense of balance again? “That’s absolutely not true.” She pressed her cheek against his. “You must truly have no idea how vital you are to me.”

“I’ve shown that I am a liability,” Quinn said. “My mental weakness allowed all of this to happen. If I had been stronger, realized what Baras was trying to do-”

“You are not weak,” Maevry said. “Did you not believe me when we spoke on the bridge?”

Quinn took a breath, trying to keep some semblance of decorum. “If you mean immediately after we left the transponder station, I must confess, I don’t remember much, if any, of our conversation.”

“I’ll remind you, then. With your failure to kill me, you proved how strong you are,” Maevry said. “You could have killed me in my sleep. Slipped me poison. Let me die in the field.” She placed her hand on his cheek and Quinn found himself unable to look away. “And instead, you somehow managed to convince Baras that you could program two droids strong enough to kill me. Tell me that’s not strong, Malavai.”

He found himself sitting up a little straighter. “I hadn’t considered the situation from that perspective, my love,” Quinn said.

The words comforted him more than he deserved, surely. But they were a base he could build on. No doubt he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for what happened. However, he could hold his head up, he could look his wife in the eye, thanks to those words.

Normally, Quinn would never tolerate failure. But in failing, he succeeded in keeping the most important person in his life alive.

“I would highly encourage that you start,” Maevry said. She leaned forward and kissed him. Softly at first, but then Quinn deepened the kiss. Almost four days had passed since he touched her properly. Far too long.

Quinn let out a groan as she captured his lower lip between his teeth. The blood in his body started rushing towards his groin, and he decided he couldn’t get her into bed fast enough. So he hooked her legs underneath his arm, standing up, carrying her bridal-style to the bed.

He had promised to make up for the betrayal in private, after all.

Tonight would be a good night to start.


	31. Kira Carsen Romance - The Defender

**Class** : Jedi Knight

**When** : Chapter III, _The Defender_

 

* * *

 

“You’re a terrible cook.” 

“Fine,” Kira said with a laugh. “See if I ever make you breakfast in bed again, big guy.” 

Ryne rolled his eyes and picked up a bowl from the tray Kira held. “I’m just repeating what you’ve told me a million times. Isn’t that how you wormed your way out of kitchen duty?” 

“How dare you use my own words against me,” Kira said with mock outrage. She sat down on the bed next to him and Ryne let himself relax as she threw an arm around his shoulder. “So you gonna at least try it? I spent a whole five minutes making it.” 

He looked down at the bowl which seemed to hold a porridge of some sort. The edges were slightly burned while the very center didn’t seemed to be cooked all the way through. “How does anyone mess up porridge this badly?” Ryne asked. 

“I could tell you, but it’s an amazing story involving the Hutts, the planet Voss, and Darth Marr. You’d never believe me, and I can’t have you running back to the Jedi Council telling them that I lied to you,” Kira said, bringing her feet up on the bed and curling up next to him. 

“Well, we can’t have the Council thinking that you would ever violate the Jedi Code, can we?” Ryne asked, a hint of suggestiveness in his voice. Slowly, he ran the pad of his fingertip run up Kira’s arm. 

A smirk appeared at the corner of Kira’s lips. “Trying to seduce me so you won’t have to eat the breakfast I so lovingly prepared for you?” she asked, moving the tray from the bed to the floor.

“Try?” Ryne asked, pulling Kira in close. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kira said. Ryne stayed still as she pressed her lips against his. “I’m a good little Jedi.” 

Ryne knew the next line; he and Kira had practically perfected bedroom banter in their year sleeping together. But suddenly all he could think of was how this scene felt like maybe things were getting back to back to normal. Maybe he had finally put being controlled by the Emperor behind him. As he shuddered, just thinking about the Emperor, Ryne decided maybe he really hadn’t. 

“Hey,” Kira said, her voice soft. “You still with me?” 

“Just thinking,” he said, putting his hand on Kira’s cheek. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” Kira said, jumping out of bed. “Come on, we’re orbiting Coruscant. We’ll find ourselves a restaurant and eat all sorts of greasy breakfast foods. I’m buying.” 

He expected that. Neither one of them had really spoken about their experience in the Emperor’s Fortress. One day, they’d have to, if they had any sort of chance to heal. But for now, distractions worked plenty. 

“I was thinking more like pastries,” Ryne said as he stood up, grabbing his trousers off of the floor. He wouldn’t wear his Jedi robes, not for breakfast. Maybe he’d even leave his lightsaber behind. A moment of panic flared at the thought of not being armed. The lightsaber would stay snug at his hip. 

Kira walked over to him and grabbed both his hands. “We’re going to be okay,” she said softly. “You know that, right?” 

Ryne nodded without really thinking about the answer. Someday, maybe. His thumb ran across the scar on the back of Kira’s hand, the one he kept forgetting to ask where she picked up. “Yeah, I know.

He wrapped his arms around her, and when feeling her body pressed up right against his, Ryne could almost believe it.

Someday, maybe.


	32. Corso Riggs Romance - XS Freighter

**Who** : Republic Smuggler

**When:** Chapter III, XS Freighter

* * *

 

“You think you’re funny?” Corso asked, crossing his arms over his chest. How could Sohnet even think he’d be willing to do that? 

“Corso,” she said, blinking too quickly to be natural. 

“Oh no,” Corso said. He’d fallen for that trick too many times already. She might be his lady, but that doesn’t mean she had him wrapped around her little finger. Well, not really. At least, he would keep telling himself that. 

Sohnet sighed and sat down on one of the galley stools. “What’s wrong with Risha? Why don’t you want to be fake married to her?” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be fake married to him, either,” Risha said casually, shrugging an elegant shoulder. 

Sohnet buried her head in her hands. “This is a marriage retreat we’re going to,” she said, sounding annoyed. “We go to the retreat, pick up the goods, and leave the retreat. Simple, right? But not if there’s no married couple!” 

Corso tapped her shoulder, his heart beating a million miles a minute. One of these days, he would ask this woman to marry him, he just hadn’t found the nerve yet. Maybe this could be the perfect chance. “Why can’t you and I be fake married?”

“Did either of you read up on the planet like I asked you to?” Sohnet said. She turned in her chair, and crossed her legs. “It’s an Imperial world. Maybe you noticed I have green skin? Imperial planets tend to frown on interspecies marriage.” 

“That’s a dumb rule,” Corso said, putting his arm around Sohnet’s shoulder, and trying not to be too pleased when she relaxed against him. “I happen to really like that you’re green, Captain.” 

“Oh please, spare me your foreplay,” Risha said with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, Corso and I will play the happy couple and you can be the lady’s maid he’s screwing on the side.” 

Sohnet smiled for the first since they started talking about the mission. “Perfect. Look, we’ll be able to bug out after the first day. It won’t be so bad. Just read up on the cover story I wrote for you two.” 

Risha picked up a holopad with a sigh. “This better be worth it,” she said as she left the galley, the door closing behind her.

“So for a day, I get to be your dirty little secret,” Sohnet said. She tugged on his jacket, and Corso let her pull him in close. “We should practice, make sure we’re doing it right.” 

There was a time when Corso firmly believed that making love only belonged in the bedroom. Sohnet quickly changed that, showing him that anywhere they could take advantage of some privacy worked just as well. On the bridge, in the cargo hold when Guss was in the galley, in an escape pod. As long as it was just the two of them, they could make love anywhere. 

Corso smiled to himself as he walked over and locked the galley door. “I’m all for practicing, Captain, but you’ve got something wrong.” 

“Oh really?” she asked with a smirk on her lips. Those damn lips of hers would just about kill him someday and he would most likely thank her for it. “What’s that?”

It only took three steps before Corso had his arms around her, kissing her softly on the lips. “We’re always doing it right.” 


	33. Ashara Zavros Romance - The Fury

**Class:** Sith Inquisitor

**When:** Act III, _The Fury_

* * *

 

“I’m out of here,” Ashara whispered, dropping her holopad as if it had burned her. What was she _doing?_ How did her life lead her to this point, sharing a bed with a Sith Lord, while the rest of the Sith seemed content to butcher the rest of the galaxy?

Another report of Sith murdering innocent people. If she confronted Jakobus, she already knew what he would say. That he wasn’t too blame, that he couldn’t change the system overnight, that he would like her by his side so they could work together to make the galaxy a better place.

Fuck that.

Fuck standing by while things moved too slowly.

They were docked at Vaiken space station. It would be easy enough to slip off the ship and grab a ride to a neutral world. Nar Shaddaa, maybe. She’d only been there once, when they had to deal with the Veil cult, but she could find the Republic ports. Maybe go back to Tython, throw herself on the mercy of the Council…

And do what, exactly? Become someone’s padawan again? Be told what to do, how to think? Was that what she wanted? And what would happen when she had to fight Sith? Would she study the build of every Sith she met, wondering if the person behind the mask was the man she loved?

She looked over at Jakobus, sound asleep in bed, while Ashara sat at his workstation. Luckily, the holopad had fallen on the carpeted floor, hardly making a sound, so he didn’t wake. Her heart swelled as she studied his face. Asleep like this, he always looked so young, younger than her, even though he was two years older. Unlike so many Rattataki, he had no piercings or tattoos, but hardly anyone other than her saw his face, thanks to the mask he always wore.

Maybe meditation would help. Ashara _hated_ meditation, always preferring action, but she needed something to calm down.

“My heart?”

And just like that, Ashara felt any resolve she had to leave slip away. Her eyes closed and she picked up the holopad, hugging it to her chest. “Go back to sleep,” she said quietly, not wanting to break the calm of the room.

He sat up, and her eyes roamed his bare chest, already feeling a hunger for him and trying to push it to the side. This really wasn’t the time. “You’re obviously distressed,” he said in a low voice. “Let me help.”

_Let me help._ Someone once said those were the three most beautiful words in the galaxy, even more beautiful than _I love you_ , and Ashara believed it. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She wanted to help, that’s all she wanted out of this life, yet it took so much damn _time._

Holding out the holopad, she said, “Just another story on the ‘net about Sith being Sith.” The bitterness in her voice wasn’t fair to him, she knew that. He hadn’t killed those civilians. But he was entwined in the system that allowed it to happen, and some days it seemed just as bad.

She waited for his platitudes, but instead he patted her side of the bed. “Come, we’ll mourn together.”

“Really?” she asked. Maybe that was exactly what she needed. For him to accept these stories as the damn tragedies they were instead of pleading patience with her.

Jakobus nodded and that was enough. Ashara placed the holopad back on the workstation and walked over to the bed. Slipping underneath the covers, she lay on her side, facing him. He was both shorter and of a slighter build than her, so when he turned to his side, she didn’t hesitate, and put her arms around him, so that his back was flush to her chest.

“We’ll make things right,” he said, sounding weary.

How many times had they talked things over, trying to plan the ideal Empire, if only in their own minds? She couldn’t leave him now, that would be telling him she didn’t believe. And stars, how she wanted to believe.

Kissing the back of his neck, Ashara whispered, “Together.”


End file.
